Ripple Effect
by Psychopithicus
Summary: Actions have consequences. The actions of Overwatch left behind a shockwave that rippled through the world and touched countless lives. Now, with Overwatch broken and lost, new heroes must rise, even from the darkest and most unlikely of places.
1. Chapter 1: Rookie

**Hello, all! Poking my way into the Overwatch fandom here with this story (which will hopefully be the first in a series). Not much I have to say beyond that, but I do hope you enjoy my little piece here.**

 **With that, let's begin...**

 **Ripple Effect**

Chapter 1: Rookie

Dawn was breaking over the Norwegian city of Olso. The early hour made for a simpler trip to the local airport, particularly for those expecting a long flight. Citizens passed through the security gate, and with no need to fight and climb over one another, they were able to proceed to their respective flights.

Lagging somewhat behind the rest of the crowd was a man in his mid-forties with short, graying hair and a weathered brown coat. He accepted a rather sizeable wheeled suitcase from the security clerk and, with a friendly nod to the airport staff, made his way onward. The man's eyes darted from sign to sign, until they rested on one marked "Ilios".

 _I hope you're watching, Finn_ , the man thought. He took a quick breath to steady himself before heading for the Ilios flight. _The show will be starting soon._

* * *

Dorado was a Mexican town in a period of celebration. Piñatas, guitars, and other decorations dotted the town as per the continuing Festival de la Luz, a celebration of the end of the Omnic Crisis and the installment of new fusion power plants. In the evening, however, the festivities ceased, and the families piled back into their homes to rest.

But, some could not rest. A semi truck drove the streets, its destination being a massive pyramid-like structure illuminating the night in the distance. The truck was escorted by several police cars and motorcycles, each containing steely-eyed officers intent on seeing their payload delivered.

As the truck traversed a long stretch of road through the town, a door on one of the houses swung open, and a pair of small children—a boy and a girl—burst out. Their mother, shaking her head but unable to hide a smile, followed.

" _Mamá_ , please!" the girl begged. "We want to see the power plant part!"

"All right, _hijos_ , but only for a minute," the mother chuckled. "Then it's off to bed for both of you."

Her children, eyes bright and faces full of wonder, looked on as the truck approached, taking in as much of the sight as they could. Soon, the truck and its convoy passed by, leaving the awestruck children behind.

"Okay, now that we've got our fill, let's get to bed," the mother said. Her children's face fell, but the boy and girl complied nonetheless.

Before they could get inside, however, a loud buzzing began to fill the air. The wind picked up, rattling Dorado's decorations and scattering some discarded cardboard boxes.

" _Mamá_!" the boy cried, pointing upward.

A massive black helicopter had emerged from the night sky, stalking the truck like a predator hunts its prey. A pair of black vans screeched in front of the convoy, halting the procession and giving the helicopter time to stop and open its doors. Black ropes spilled out, each one soon carrying a figure dressed in militaristic uniforms complete with a gear-laden ballistic vest over a black T-shirt, as well as a helmet with a black gas mask and a grey upper half somewhat resembling a skull.

The dark soldiers swarmed the convoy, their rifles and handguns firing into the cars and slaughtering the police officers before they had a chance to even get out. The officers on motorcycles were able to pull out their own weapons, but these men and women were immediately gunned down as well. The two children buried their faces in their mother's body as she hurried them back inside.

One of the soldiers noticed them.

"We got witnesses," he said flatly as he watched the door shut behind them. He looked over to a soldier beside him, a slightly shorter and skinnier male armed with a handgun. "Take care of them."

Without so much as a word, the shorter soldier complied. He slammed the weight of his body into the wooden door, forcing it open and finding the family cowering in a corner. After kicking the door shut behind him, the soldier advanced on the family, gun at the ready all the while.

" _No hacernos, por favor!_ " the mother cried out. "Please! Don't hurt us!"

The soldier pointed his gun at the little girl. Tears were running down what was visible of her face as she clung tightly to her mother. The boy positioned his body between that of the soldier's and his mother's, his face both a fearful stare and a daring glare.

Then he noticed the soldier's hands shaking. Seconds morphed into minutes. The soldier didn't fire a shot. The mother could hear heavy breathing underneath the helmet.

* * *

"Payload secure?" one of the soldiers asked his comrade.

"Looks like it," the second soldier replied. By this point, the truck's doors were open, and several of the dark soldiers busily hefted out a large metallic cylinder. "How's the witness elimination?"

"Sent the new guy in," the first soldier answered. "We'll see if he's any good in a minute or two."

"Man, they keep cutting the training program shorter and shorter," the second grunt complained. "How long's this guy been learning the ropes, three months?"

Before the other soldier could reply, the house itself seemed to scream as dozens of shots rang out from within. The shots kept coming, accompanied by even more screams.

Then came a sudden silence. No more screams.

"Hoooo, boy," the first soldier remarked. "We got us a crazy one."

"Ah, let him have his fun," the second soldier shrugged. "Probably be better off for the rest of us if he's not helping with this piece of junk, anyway."

* * *

Inside the house, bullet holes riddled the wall behind the family. Some heirlooms and appliances had been damaged, if not destroyed. Not a single shot remained in the rookie soldier's gun.

But not a hair on the family's heads was out of place.

The soldier's gun clattered to the floor as he ripped off his helmet in a flurry of gasps and pants, revealing a mess of neck-length black hair. He collapsed on the floor in the fetal position, still hyperventilating and now mumbling to himself.

"Oh God," the soldier murmured. "Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…"

The family's stares no longer contained fear. The boy separated from his mother and carefully approached the panicking man in black.

"…excuse me?" the boy said quietly.

The soldier yelped in fright, springing into a sitting position and backing himself into a wall. More hyperventilating ensued as if the small boy was the harbinger of terror itself.

"Um…are you okay?" the boy asked.

The soldier panted some more, seemingly trying to push himself backwards through the wall, but his breaths became slower and had more time between them. Noticing their would-be murderer calming down, the family's mother went over to her son.

"I…I don't think he's going to hurt us," the mother said gently. She looked over to the soldier, who was able to manage a nod between breaths. The mother frowned worriedly; he was clearly an adult, but he still looked like his life had barely begun. "It's okay. Everything's going to be all right."

The soldier's breaths slowed down more. He soon reached a steadier, more normal rate of breathing.

"There, now," the mother gave the young soldier her kindest smile. "Feel better?"

"N-no," the soldier stammered. "I-I think I just shook off something that's basically brainwashing, and…oh God, everything's coming back to me! Ohhh, oh, God…I've only been doing this a couple months and I've done so much…"

"It's all right!" the mother said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's over. You're free."

"No…no, no, they'll figure out I broke free," the soldier mumbled with a shake of his head. "I'm not safe. You're not safe. Nobody's safe. They'll kill us."

"Who are they?" the little girl asked timidly.

"They're—they're called Talon," the soldier said, still recovering from his panic attack. "Bad people. Really, really bad."

"But…you're not bad. You saved us," the girl pointed out. "Why are you with them?"

"Because…it was either join them or get killed," the soldier replied sadly.

"Aww, dear," the mother said as she lifted his face and looked into his eyes. Two orbs filled with nothing but fear and despair stared worriedly back at her. "What's your name?"

"I…m-my name's Amos," the soldier answered.

"How old are you?" the mother asked.

Amos' eyes darted about in confusion.

"Um…twenty-eight," he answered after a moment.

"Amos," the mother began, her voice turning grave, "you need to get away from those people."

"No, no, no—that's what I should be telling you," the reluctant soldier replied as he finally rose to his feet. "I've been in here too long, they'll figure out that I haven't killed you all like they told me to."

He started pacing back and forth, desperately looking around.

"Nnnggh, what to do, what to do?" Amos mumbled as he walked.

"Can we help?" the little boy asked.

"I, uh, I don't think…wait. Wait, hang on, you might be able to," Amos said as he stopped pacing. "Do you guys have any red food coloring or fresh meat or something? I need fake blood, because…I mean, I really shouldn't expect a random family to have fake blood just lying around somewhere, but—"

"We have the coloring—go get it," the mother said as she sent her son off.

"Okay, uh…I'm also going to need one trash bag for each of you," Amos continued, still nervously looking around and pointing off in whatever directions he could find inspiration. "And I'm going to need something that'll smell like a dead body if you leave it out for a while. And some random junk that we can stuff into the bags, too—some old things you don't need and don't care about would be great."

"We had bought a turkey today for the festival, we haven't cooked it yet," the mother replied.

Before Amos could make a comment, a beep came from his discarded helmet, followed swiftly by a voice.

"Clemens, come in!" the voice said. "Report!"

"Oh, son of a—get the stuff, I'll deal with this," Amos hissed to the mother, and she took her daughter out of the room. With a fearful grimace and a deep breath, Amos donned his helmet and put a finger to the side.

"Clemens here," Amos said, the nerves suddenly gone from his voice. But his hands were still quivering. "What is it?"

"We've got the payload," the soldier on the other end reported. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm disposing of bodies," Amos replied as calmly as he could. "Be out in a sec."

"You need a hand?" the other Talon soldier asked. "It'll go faster with more people."

"No!" Amos cried. With a shake of his head, he replaced his fearful tone with an angrier one. "I can do it myself!"

"Oh…kay, then," the other Talon grunt said slowly. "See you in a bit. Over and out."

Another beep signaled the end of the conversation, and Amos yanked off his helmet with a sigh of relief. The family chose this moment to return, bearing the items he requested.

"Oh, thanks so much," Amos said. He took the food coloring and began splattering it around the area where the family once huddled.

"We should be thanking you," the mother smiled as he emptied the entire container of food coloring onto the wall. "If anyone else had come through that door..."

"Please, don't even say it," Amos told her as he took their turkey and dropped it into one of the trash bags. "I'm really sorry about the mess, by the way. Just…need it to be convincing in case any of them come in here."

"Oh, don't worry, we know our lives are more important," the mother shook her head with a smile. The children looked like they would disagree, but their mother held them closer, and they fell silent.

"Well, I mean, life-saving panic attacks apparently aren't cheap," Amos pointed out as he quickly stuffed a number of random trash objects the children brought him into the other two bags, "considering that I've probably cost you a good few thousand of whatever currency you use here in property damage and food and—"

The mother put her hands on his face and aimed his gaze into her eyes.

"We'll worry about that," she said. "We owe you our lives. Now, you need to save your own."

Amos barely seemed to acknowledge her gratitude as he gently removed her hands from his face.

"Y-yeah…yeah, okay, do me a favor?" Amos said. "Hide for a couple hours. Talon's got what they came for, and they're pulling out. You'll be safe to come out once they're definitely gone."

"We'll do that," the mother said, placing her hand on his shoulder once more. "Thank you again, Amos. _Gracias_."

"Yeah…yeah, anytime," he said listlessly as he put on his helmet. He picked up his handgun and holstered it, then took the trash bags from the children. "Well…wish me luck."

With that, Amos left the family's house, dragging the trash bags as he went. Once outside, he placed all three into the nearest dumpster and went to rejoin the remaining Talon grunts.

"Took you long enough," one of the soldiers snapped.

"Knock it off!" a second soldier yelled, punching the first one in the shoulder. "You want to be the next one in that dumpster? Let's just go!"

Amos silently followed his comrades onto a nearby roof and into the helicopter, then kept to the back of the group as they took off. The cylinder the truck had been carrying was now attached to the copter's bottom.

"Man, Talon's been on a roll lately," one of the grunts chuckled. "First Mondatta, now this. Here's hoping we get a raise."

"Speak for yourself," another grunt snorted. "I just want to get myself a real warzone. Cause some _real_ damage."

But Amos did not share such satisfaction or bloodlust. His mind was on a different track.

 _Yep,_ he thought. _I am going to die._


	2. Chapter 2: Seeking Answers

Chapter 2: Seeking Answers

The moment his battalion returned to the Talon headquarters in France, Amos went directly to the barracks and shut the door behind him. After quickly looking around to make sure he was alone in the room, he removed his helmet and sat down on his bed.

 _I need to get out of here,_ Amos thought. He got up and began ambling around the barracks, scratching his head furiously. _I can't be a killer. I need to grab some things and—and—can I get somewhere safe? There's got to be somewhere safe where they won't find me!_

He stopped.

 _Like what?_ he thought with a sigh. _Where would I even go? Talon's global, they'll hunt me down…and I can't just put whoever I'd be with in the kind of danger Talon brings. But I am really not eager to have two shotguns the size of a person's arm pointed in my face again._

Amos resumed pacing about erratically, mind still racing and nervous noises still emitting from his clenched teeth. He came to another abrupt stop when an aggressive series of knocks came from the door.

"Hey, Clemens!" someone—most likely another Talon soldier—yelled from outside. "The hell are you doing in there?"

Without a second of thought, Amos yanked the door open and came face-to-helmet with the Talon grunt.

"What is it?!" Amos nearly screamed, adrenaline shooting through his body. The Talon grunt paused. The disheveled-looking Amos was once again breathing heavily.

"Uh…nothing," the grunt said as he slowly backed away. "It's nothing, go ahead and go back to…whatever you were doing."

The grunt left, soon joining up with a group of his comrades. Amos, still panting, began to close the door as the murmurs of the other grunts' drifted into his ears.

"Man, that new guy is messed up."

"Did you hear what he did to that house in Dorado?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm staying clear of him."

Amos shut the door completely, and his heavy breathing ceased. For a moment, he simply stood there, a hand on the door.

They thought he was insane. They thought he was violent and unhinged…and, as far as he could tell, they weren't entirely wrong about the latter.

He sat back down on his bed, picking up his helmet and staring into its blood red eyes.

 _If I don't die here, I really will go crazy,_ Amos thought with a sigh. _Maybe…maybe I can take advantage of what the others think of me? Yeah. Yeah, that guy left me alone…maybe the rest will leave me alone long enough for me to figure out what to do. Maybe._

* * *

Ilios, Greece was often described as a picture perfect town. It had everything a tourist could want: exotic sights in the forms of ruins and nature trails, delightful rest areas, and a booming business in the local harbor. The harbor's market, in particular, was a well-frequented attraction.

"Fresh fruit here!" a merchant declared, showing off a dozen crates of apples, oranges, and everything in between. "Could anyone use a quick snack to keep them going today?"

A tourist stopped, and with a shrug, went to the stand. Others continued to pass by. Some were normal sights, like a man in a brown coat who dragged along a wheeled suitcase. Others were a tad different, like a young girl in a tunic with shoulder-length brown hair and what seemed to be a quarterstaff strapped to her back.

"Sure, I'll bite," the tourist said, and after a quick exchange of currency, he held a fresh apple in his hand. The tourist then set the apple down on one of the other crates while he rummaged through his backpack for a camera, but by time he got it out, the apple had vanished. "What? Could've sworn I put the apple right there."

"Ah, must've rolled away in the wind, it happens," the merchant shrugged. "Tell you what, I'll give you another one for free."

The tourist agreed, and got the apple-eating selfie he so craved. Meanwhile, the girl with the quarterstaff strolled down the street, taking the first bite of the original apple. With a nonchalant smile, she glanced around her town. So many potential targets, so few hours in the day. But, she always did love a challenge.

" _Tonight, on_ A Moment in Crime _!_ " a nearby television blurted out, followed by the sound of an explosion. " _Their spree of mayhem and chaos has caused untold millions in property damage around the world!_ "

The girl stopped to glance at the screen, taking another bite of her apple in the process. The program showed police officers with bell-shaped helmets chasing down a rather peculiar sight: two men, one a heavyset brute and the other as thin as the girl's staff, riding a ramshackle chopper motorcycle complete with a smiley-faced sidecar. Both men seemed to be covered in random debris, with the thin man adding a large tire to his back to go with the rotund one's pig-like gas mask.

" _But who are these two deranged Junkers?_ " the narrator asked. " _And what inspired their orgy of destruction?_ "

"Heh, orgy," the girl snickered as she took another bite of her apple.

" _Is this the look of master criminals?_ " the narrator asked, the television now showing a closer-up image of the two men. The frail one was now throwing quite a few bombs about without a care in the world, sticking his tongue out at the camera as well. " _Or just a couple of idiots?_ "

Next, a mug shot for each man appeared on the screen. The first was the frail one, with his wild hair seemingly on fire at the ends and a dazed expression on his face. A list of information appeared beside him, listing an alias of "Junkrat", a real name of "Jamison Fawkes", a height of six feet and five inches, and a weight of 155 pounds. Also on the list seemed to be his set of skills, such as explosives, arson, demolition, and barbecue.

" _Here's Junkrat,_ " the narrator continued, " _the mastermind in this string of attacks that has stretched from the Australian outback to King's Row and beyond._ "

As if to demonstrate these claims, the next scene showed a cluster of bombs—each with a Cheshire grin painted on—attached to a large safe, which exploded rather violently once the bombs' timer hit zero.

" _Now, this explosives-obsessed freak has his sights set on even greater acts of destruction,_ " the narrator declared dramatically.

"Huh," the girl hummed. "Should try and meet the guy. Always wanted to learn how to do bombs."

Junkrat's explosion led to the other man's mug shot. This one was known as Mako Rutledge, alias "Roadhog", reaching seven feet and three inches and weighing in at a hefty 550 pounds. His crimes appeared to be armed robbery, kidnapping, extortion, and theft.

" _His co-conspirator, Roadhog, is a remorseless killer who hides his face behind a mask,_ " the narrator continued, still attempting to make the most mundane words sound like the stuff of novels. " _This giant of a man is more than happy to use violence to resolve any situation._ "

Roadhog's most recent act, if the next scene shown was any indication, was to rip away the back doors of an ice cream truck by use of his own tool: a long chain ending in a massive hook.

"I could use one of those," the girl said calmly as she bit into her apple once more. The next shot showed Junkrat and Roadhog's mug shots together, this time without their profile information.

" _Together,_ " said the narrator, " _they have burned, bombed, robbed, and killed their way across the world, and their calamitous crime spree shows no sign of slowing down._ "

More examples of the duo's crimes were shown, this time a comparatively small offense of robbing what seemed to be an arcade. Junkrat made off with a collection of beverages, while Roadhog left a crying child behind as he carried a mountain of stuffed animals away.

" _Following their first decree of 'no job too big, no score too small', it seems as though there is no end in sight to this senseless rampage,_ " the narrator continued, adding a touch of bitterness to his dramatic tone, " _unless we get_ _ **your**_ _help._ "

"Yeah, not likely," the girl said with a roll of her eyes and another bite.

" _If you have any information as to the whereabouts of these two_ extremely _dangerous criminals, you need to contact us right away,_ " the narrator commanded. " _Remember: crime doesn't pay, but_ _ **we**_ _do._ "

To illustrate this point, a multicolored bar slid across the bottom of Junkrat and Roadhog's dual photo, containing the words "CONTACT US TODAY". At the narrator's mention of money, the words changed to "REWARD: $25,000,000". Another explosion crossed the screen, formally ending the _A Moment in Crime_ program.

"Same bribery tactics as always," the girl sighed with yet another apple bite.

She began to walk again, but mere moments after she did so, sirens began to blare loudly. The girl instinctively flattened herself against a wall, quickly managing a lean in an attempt to seem natural. Seconds later, the reason for the sirens blazed past: the same junk-laden chopper _A Moment in Crime_ had just shown, complete with Junkrat and Roadhog themselves. A slew of police cars followed, weaving in and out to avoid a series of bear traps that Junkrat seemed to be throwing behind him.

"That's convenient," the girl muttered. With the police cars out of sight, she continued ambling along, but was quickly interrupted once again, this time by a massive explosion in the direction the police cars were headed.

All the girl could do was let out a low whistle. And then she kept walking.

"KABOOM! Rest in pieces!" a heavy Australian accent called out with a cackle. "Hey, hey, 'Hog! How's this: you really _stepped_ in it, mates! Huh? Huh?"

An disgusted groan was the only response; the girl could barely hear it over the short distance between her and the two criminals. Soon, Junkrat and Roadhog came into view, surrounded by a field of scorched debris and bodies.

"Ah, you're always a tough crowd," Junkrat grumbled as he hobbled his way across the debris with his handmade peg leg. "We'll get to those temples and stuff in a bit, all right? Let's just see what's down here, first. The towns always got good stuff!"

"There's a bank on your left, guys," the girl called out as she casually passed by. The two looked at her like she had grown two heads—though Roadhog's expression was impossible to discern underneath his mask—and she stopped. "What?"

"Hey, hold on, cobber!" Junkrat said as he hobbled over to her. "You look like you got your head screwed on straight! What's your name?"

"Oh, me? Diamantina," the girl replied, still casually eating her apple and now talking with her mouth full. "Friends call me Tina. You guys are Junkrat and Roadhog, right? I just saw a news report about you. I like your bombs."

"Ah, finally! My genius is _recognized_!" Junkrat cried with an elated throw of his arms. He gave Roadhog a quick elbow in the latter's massive stomach. "See, 'Hog, you could learn a lot from this one!"

Roadhog just heaved a heavy sigh.

"Ah, don't mind him, mate," Junkrat said as he looked back to Tina. "There's a reason I keep him around—and it ain't for the sparklin' conversation. Say, uh, you said there was a bank around here?"

"Right there," Tina gestured with her apple to the building across the street from them.

"Ooh, it's a nice big one!" Junkrat cackled. "Tell you what—Tina, right?—let's celebrate our new friendship by havin' you do the honors!"

He held up a small, smiley-faced bomb. Tina's eyes lit up.

"Ooh, yeah! Hold this for me," she replied as she tossed Roadhog her apple. She took the bomb from Junkrat and placed it next to her on the street.

"Hey, uh, that's not supposed to be what you do with a—" Junkrat stopped himself when he saw Tina pull out her quarterstaff and position it next to the bomb in the way one would a golf club next to the ball. "Oh-ho-ho, I like your style!"

"FORE!" Tina yelled as she swung the staff, sending the bomb sailing into the front doors of the bank and triggering a blast that threw them right off their hinges. "Ha! That was _awesome_!"

"Hoo, yeah! Hole in one!" Junkrat agreed. "Well, nice meetin' ya, mate, but time is money and we're flat broke!"

"All right, man, take care," Tina said before looking to Roadhog. "You still got my…"

Roadhog was busy chewing rather loudly underneath his mask. Tina raised an eyebrow.

"Uh…did you eat the apple I gave you?" she asked.

Roadhog nodded.

"…the core, too?"

Roadhog nodded again. Tina stared for a moment before eventually shrugging.

"Eh, whatever, I can get more," she said. "You keep it."

Roadhog gave her a thumbs-up before following Junkrat into the opened bank. The two disappeared inside, leaving Tina alone.

 _Love meeting my kind of people,_ Tina thought with a smile as she went on her way. She had barely taken three steps, however, before she was made to stop again. _Ugh, now what?_

This time, it was the sound of thunder. Tina looked up with a furrowed brow; there wasn't a cloud in the sky today. Where was the thunder coming from?

Suddenly, Roadhog catapulted out of the bank's open doorway, crashing through a shop window near Tina. Leftover electricity was coursing across his body, but that failed to stop Mako Rutledge from rising to his feet and preparing his hook.

"Hey! Hands off the merchandise!" Junkrat's cries could be heard from the bank. "Get out of my face, ya drongo!"

With a scream, Junkrat also came sailing out, landing directly in the street.

"Well, that's a fine how-do-you-do!" Junkrat snapped as he scrambled to his feet.

More thunder rumbled as their attacker revealed itself: a tall male figure in a blue-and-black bodysuit, electricity pulsing through the wires woven into the suit's material. The man's face was obscured by a mask vaguely resembling a blue motorcycle helmet with a blacked-out visor and lightning markings running across it. Aside from the long white scarf the man wore, there was no way to truly identify him at first glance. But Tina spotted an emblem on each shoulder, specifically a grey circle with two prongs emerging from the bottom corners to meet in the middle underneath an orange top portion.

And that sight made her grip on her staff tighten.

"Careful, guys," Tina growled. "He's Overwatch."

"That right? Cheers, mate," Junkrat replied. "Like I always say, if at first you don't succeed…"

He pulled his bomb-laden tire off of his back and set it on the ground in front of him, aiming the wheel directly at the mysterious Overwatch agent.

"BLOW IT UP AGAIN!" Junkrat finished as he pulled a cord on his tire.

The cord triggered a motor within the tire, which began barreling and bouncing towards the masked agent, but electricity suddenly began coursing violently through the wires on his suit. The man suddenly leapt onto the wall and off again, springing into the air and dodging Junkrat's tire with ease and allowing it to explode harmlessly behind him. Meanwhile, the electricity in the man's legs increased in intensity, sparking off and forming a steadily-growing orb of lightning around his right foot.

"Get clear!" Roadhog growled, grabbing Tina by the torso and throwing her as far away as he could muster. His strength sent her a good few feet, but not far enough away to prevent her from seeing what happened next.

"THUUNDEERRR!" the unknown agent bellowed as the lightning around his foot reached a zenith. Then, a set of tubes on his arms released a burst of electricity that propelled him forward. "STRRIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKEEEE!"

The Overwatch agent rocketed down towards the Junker duo with alarming speed, quickly crashing into the ground between them and releasing a short wave of lightning from the impact. Tina was just out of range, but the sparks immediately shorted out all electrical appliances nearby, up to and including street lights and shop signs. When the smoke cleared, the agent in the mask stood in a massive crater, with an half-conscious and electrified criminal duo at his feet.

"Junkrat!" Tina cried out, eyes wide. "Roadhog!"

She pulled out her staff again and quickly pole vaulted forth, simultaneously pulling what appeared to be a bola with tasers strapped to each of the connected spheres. Tina quickly threw her bola at the Overwatch agent, and while he easily dodged by hopping backwards, the street urchin herself came hurtling at him seconds later with a flurry of wild quarterstaff swings.

"Wait! Calm down!" the agent cried, dodging and blocking Tina's strikes at every opportunity. "I mean you no harm!"

"Screw you, asshole!" Tina barked as she pressed her attack. She aimed a swing at the operative's legs, but he agilely back-flipped out of the way.

"Those men are criminals," the Overwatch agent pointed out. Tina swung again, but this time the masked man caught the staff and held on, adding his other hand when the streetwise girl tried to pull it back. "You shouldn't associate with people like them!"

"What, so _you're_ the better one?!" Tina snapped. "What I do with my life isn't your call, old man!"

"But there must be people who care about you!" the agent cried. "People who want you to succeed in life instead of loitering about on the streets!"

"SHUT! UP! YOU! STUPID! OLD! BASTARD!" Tina yelled, yanking on her staff with every word until she ripped it out of the agent's hands. Then, she brought it around for another attack. "GO TO HELL, WATCHBAIT!"

"Please, stop this!" the man pleaded, returning to blocking and dodging. "There's no need for anger here!"

"Oh, trust me, there's _plenty_ of need for anger," Tina growled. "Especially considering the logo you're wearing."

The man glanced at his shoulder, where the Overwatch emblem resided.

"…I see," he said. "If you don't mind my asking—"

"I _do_ mind," Tina growled, thrusting her staff towards the agent's stomach, only for him to dodge and knock the weapon out of her hands. "Hey!"

"Miss," the agent said as he put his hands on both of Tina's shoulders. "If you have reason to believe that Overwatch did you some grievous wrong, then I apologize. But, the world needs the sort of heroes Overwatch brought forth now more than ever. And, someday, they may realize where they went wrong with you and make every effort to correct that."

"What do you mean 'they' will do that?" Tina asked, tilting her head to the side. "You're one of them."

"In a sense," the man said as he removed his hands. "But, for now, I must be off. There's much for me to do."

With a quick salute, the supposed Overwatch agent dashed away, his electricity carrying him faster than most human bodies would allow. Tina gave his retreating form a puzzled look before turning to the fallen Junkrat and Roadhog.

"Here, guys," the street urchin said as she pulled out what seemed to be a mine with a medical red cross haphazardly painted on, dropping it next to them. "I've got some answers to find."

With that, she pole vaulted after the mysterious masked agent, running down the street in the direction he was headed: Ilios' harbor. Once she was there, however, a crowd of people ensured that the man in blue was nowhere to be found.

But a man in a brown coat with a rather large wheeled suitcase was quite visible.

"Hey, you!" Tina called, putting the end of her staff in the man's way. "You see a sparkly guy in blue run through here?"

The man blanched for a moment, but recovered quickly.

"I'm sorry, Miss, I don't think I can help you," he said rather hurriedly as he brushed his way past. "I would think I'd remember an outlandish sight as that."

The man worked his way to a boat, where he quickly handed the guard a ticket and was allowed on. Tina frowned.

"You're not getting away that easy, Watchbait," she growled. She clambered up a nearby set of crates, and once the ship began to move, she pole vaulted her way on board.

Overwatch was going to answer for what it did to her if it was the last thing she did.


	3. Chapter 3: Thunderstruck

Chapter 3: Thunderstruck

A week had passed since Amos broke free from his brainwashing. His coworkers were oblivious to (or simply didn't care about) his true nature; as Amos had hoped, they were unwilling to associate with him due to his perceived violent temperament. Be it at lunch or in the recreational space, Amos typically had at least an entire table all to himself, just so the other grunts could avoid him.

At the moment, Amos once again had a seat of his own—several feet away from the majority of Talon's soldiers—on a specialized Talon dropship rather than the helicopter swarm he was used to. The week had been rather slow, with only menial duties required in-between missions, but today his battalion was to accompany a top Talon operative on a retrieval mission.

Amos simply hoped this mission would be his last, one way or another.

He gave his head a shake—no more thinking about death. He focused instead on staring out the window he was seated next to. The city they were approaching, namely the African city of Numbani, looked rather nice. The buildings were massive and decorated with all manner of neon lights, but what more impressed Amos was Numbani's reputation. It was renowned for having something almost unthinkable in this day and age: peaceful coexistence between humans and Omnics.

 _Wish I could come here under better circumstances,_ Amos thought. _Maybe I can do my desertion thing here? I mean, in a place this tolerant, someone's bound to take me in…right?_

"Captain on deck!" one of the grunts called out. Amos' grip on his gun tightened as he clenched his teeth.

 _Please don't be Reaper,_ he thought, crossing his fingers. _Please don't be Reaper, please don't be Reaper, please don't be Reaper…_

It was not Reaper.

It was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.

 _Holy…mother…of God,_ Amos thought as his jaw dropped. This woman was absolutely _stunning_. Her figure, accentuated by the form-fitting armor and bodysuit she wore, looked like the sort one would see on a top-ranked supermodel. Her eyes looked as if they were literally made from gold, and Amos felt a chill run down his spine as those eyes quickly analyzed each individual soldier; for once, he couldn't tell if he was afraid or aroused. Her waist-length navy hair looked unbelievably smooth and shiny, even when tied up in a tight ponytail, and her pale blue skin—strange as it seemed—somehow enhanced her otherworldly nature.

The woman scowled as she quietly stepped past most of the soldiers, taking her place by the door of the plane. She picked a dark-colored rifle off of her back, fiddling with it enough to extend the sort of long barrel seen on sniper rifles.

"Now, then," the woman began in a thick French accent. "I will be your commander for this mission. You may call me Widowmaker."

 _Wait, wait, wait, SHE'S Widowmaker?_ Amos' jaw practically detached from his skull. _As in, 'THE' Widowmaker?_

Widowmaker's mouth opened again.

 _Wow, her voice is…I could listen to her all day,_ he thought. _Does she do audio books? If she does, shut up and take what little money I have—ALL of it. What's that thing on her head, a visor? Why does it have so many eyes? Does she like bugs? Maybe she likes bugs. I'm okay with that, I'm all for uncommon interests. Speaking of eyes and uncommon, does she wear contacts? Pretty sure gold isn't a normal eye color—actually, wait a minute, better question: why is she blue? Does she have radioactive blood? Was she born that way? Maybe her eyes are natural, if that's the case? I mean, I wouldn't mind, she's drop-dead gorgeous, just…just LOOK at her! Her legs are—they're, like, two-thirds the height of her whole body, how does that even work? …I really hope I'm not drooling in this helmet. That'd be really awkward._

"Now!" Widowmaker said sharply. "Any questions?"

 _Wait, hold on,_ Amos thought. _What were we doing?_

The remaining grunts responded to Widowmaker's question by giving a rousing chorus in the negative. Amos just shook his head and hurriedly followed suit with his comrades' rise to their feet, clutching his handgun nervously as he prepared to line up at the door with the other grunts.

"You," Widowmaker barked. "The one in the back."

Amos paled. He was quite certain she was referring to him.

"Are you the rookie?" Widowmaker asked. "Amos Clemens?"

He hated being right.

"Um, uh—yes, sir! Er, sorry, ma'am…miss…miz?" Amos stammered. "Um…take your pick?"

Widowmaker raised an eyebrow, but lowered it once she began marching towards him. She stopped once her face was within inches from his helmet, her eyes piercing directly into his own. The fact that she was noticeably taller than he was made him want to shrink down even more.

"I hear you're something of a loose cannon," she said darkly. "You will follow my lead and follow orders. Don't even think of jeopardizing the mission; I am not leaving without that gauntlet. Am I making myself clear?"

"Uhhh—hamana—banafalama—crystal clear, boss!" Amos sputtered quickly, attempting to salvage his dignity by throwing up a salute.

Widowmaker gave him an odd look before turning to the door, disgustedly muttering something along the lines of "men". Some of the soldiers stifled quiet snickers.

 _So much for that "loose cannon" reputation,_ Amos thought bitterly. _Am I cursed to be completely unable to talk to women or something?_

Before any form of answer could come, the dropship's door was flung open. Widowmaker was out first, firing a grappling hook from a device on her wrist and swinging from rooftop to rooftop, doing whatever a spider could to make her way to her objective.

 _Wow, look at her go,_ Amos thought, feeling himself drift off again. He suddenly gave his head a shake violent enough to perturb a few of his nearby comrades. _God dammit, Amos, pull it together! Focus on getting out in one piece, not on stupid puppy love that'll get you killed!_

The dropship soon approached the actual museum, hovering over the skylight. Ropes dropped down from the Talon plane, carrying its soldiers down. Amos sighed; he hated this part.

The reluctant soldier grabbed onto a rope and slid down, wincing as he felt a grinding against his of the grunts ahead of him fired off their guns, shattering the skylight and clearing a path for the rest of their team. The few unfortunate security guards present in the facility were quickly gunned down as the Talon team touched down. Eventually, Amos' feet also touched solid ground, and he quickly began to examine his surroundings.

 _Okay, Widowmaker said something about not leaving without a…_ Amos cut off his own thoughts when he saw a large metallic fist within a glass dome, surrounded by advertisements of an exhibit that was to be opened soon. _Oh. Really should've guessed that was what we were here for._

Indeed, the primary weapon belonging to the famed criminal known as "Doomfist" was on display at the now-infiltrated museum. Amos had heard stories of a previous attempt Talon had made on this same prize when it was on display at a separate museum that focused more heavily on the history of Overwatch; despite the efforts of Widowmaker and Reaper—both reputed as some of Talon's best resources—the mission was a failure.

Amos gulped. Attractive or not, Widowmaker would not be pleased in the least to hear of a second failure for the same mission. And, in his line of work, the sound of a displeased superior was quite similar to the clicking of a gun.

"Doomfist's gauntlet in sight," one of the soldiers said into his radio.

" _Copy that,_ " Widowmaker radioed back. " _Retrieve it and get out._ "

"Roger," the same grunt replied before deactivating his communicator. "Man, we're getting all the easy jobs these days."

"Don't jinx it!" Amos snapped.

"Aw, relax for once, Clemens!" the radio soldier laughed as he sauntered over to the Doomfist gauntlet. "Overwatch is long gone, and we have the world's best sniper watching our backs! This is easy street if I've ever seen—"

The grunt was cut off by a rumble of thunder and a flash above them. The dropship suddenly veered downward and collapsed on the museum's roof, the ropes that hung from it limply dropping to the floor.

"You were saying?" Amos remarked rather snidely.

The radio grunt was too busy glaring at Amos to do anything, so another grunt picked up his slack.

"Widowmaker, dropship is down!" the second grunt reported. "I repeat, dropship is down!"

" _Your orders are the same, get the gauntlet and get out!_ " their commander ordered. " _Wait—you have incoming! It's…what in the world?_ "

A window above Doomfist's gauntlet suddenly burst, and a blue-garbed figure with a foot wrapped in electricity barreled through.

"THUNDEERRRR!" the Overwatch agent from Ilios yelled as he plummeted towards the grunts. "STRRRRIIIIIIKKKKKEEEE!"

The grunts scattered as the agent came down like a hammer, releasing a shockwave of electricity that knocked some of the fleeing soldiers off their feet. Amos tumbled head-first into a wall as his comrades fell about beside other areas of the Doomfist exhibit.

"Whatever your interest in this weapon may be," the man in the Overwatch mask declared, "your ambitions end here."

A few grunts looked at each other, and with a shrug, aimed their weapons at the supposed operative. The man in blue charged his body with lightning again, however, and dashed at them with amazing speed. Few shots were fired off before the agent struck the grunts with the fastest flurry of punches Amos had ever seen, sending them sprawling on the floor in a series of groaning messes.

And then the man from Overwatch turned towards Amos.

"Oh, no," the timid grunt murmured, the face beneath his helmet quickly losing all color.

With a dramatic motion, the man from Overwatch flattened his hand and pointed it directly at Amos, releasing an actual bolt of lightning in the young soldier's direction. Amos yelped in fright as he scrambled aside, allowing the lightning to scorch the wall where he once was. More grunts opened fire on their mysterious target, distracting the Overwatch fighter long enough for Amos to take cover in a doorway.

From where he hid, Amos saw the electric man swiftly floor several more grunts before turning to some that had recovered from his earlier blows. Amos sighed as he sank into the floor.

 _I go in there, that guy wipes the floor with me,_ he thought. _I don't go in there, Widowmaker shoots me through the head. Damned if I do, damned if I don't…business as usual, I guess._

With a deep breath for luck, he got up to re-enter the fight but instead found himself doing a double-take. A slim figure was now hanging upside down in the window the Overwatch man had broken through, long ponytail dangling down as a familiar sniper rifle took aim. Unfortunately, the agent saw his new foe, and aimed another lightning blast in her direction.

"Boss, he's gonna shoot lightning!" Amos shrieked into his radio.

Widowmaker quickly vanished from the window, slinking upward as the lightning whizzed by. With his target gone, the Overwatch operative returned to dealing with the dwindling number of grunts.

 _Okay, no way I can take this guy in a fight,_ Amos thought. _There has to be something I can—_

He felt his way down his vest and came upon several rather bulbous pouches.

 _Oh…right,_ he thought with a sigh. _Keep forgetting I have these._

Amos slipped his gloved fingers into one of the pouches and pulled out what seemed to be a wad of rags. Sticking closely to the wall, he made his way to the nearest fallen grunt and knelt beside him.

"Here," Amos said, handing the rag wad to the grunt and tapping it with a finger. It suddenly unfolded into a sizeable set of bandages coated in a film of what looked like liquid painkiller. "Put this on where it hurts."

"Wha— _you're_ a medic?" the soldier blurted out but nonetheless complied.

"Once upon a time," Amos shrugged. "Now I'm just your average lunatic putting himself in suicidal situations for kicks."

Another grunt sailed into a wall close to them.

"No rest for the wicked, I guess," Amos sighed and went over to the wall-bound grunt, handing him another medical rag.

The Overwatch agent was currently zipping about like a real bolt of electricity, striking down the scattered Talon grunts left and right. Amos glanced at Widowmaker, who was still hanging in the window.

" _Allez, montre-toi,_ " she muttered in French. One side of her mouth was baring its teeth slightly as her sniper rifle's barrel aimed this way and that, trying to line up a shot but unable to pin her speedy target down. Noticing his superior's plight, Amos fumbled his way through his other vest pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a small black sphere.

 _Well, if nothing else, I might get brownie points for trying this stupid thing,_ he thought. _I mean, I'll take whatever keeps me alive for longer. I hope._

He aimed near a small crowd of grunts the Overwatch operative was pestering, and threw the sphere with all his might. The ball cracked open on the floor beside the electrical agent, unleashing a human-sized torrent of slime that stuck to whatever surfaces it made contact with. The masked man was forced to do several back-flips to avoid the substance, but soon the goop flood ceased, and the mysterious warrior was back in the fight once more.

 _Well, that could've gone better,_ Amos thought with a grimace. He quickly tossed another injured grunt one of his medical wrappings. _Come on, there has to be something that can stop this guy!_

Then he looked up and saw a series of metallic fixtures in the ceiling, all surrounding the broken skylight.

That was it.

"Clemens to Widow—can I call you 'Widow'?" Amos hurriedly said into his radio. "You're at a vantage point, right?"

" _I'm a sniper, where else would I be?_ " Widowmaker snapped back.

"No, wait, look—just hear me out!" Amos cried. "Can you see any way to turn on the sprinkler system from where you are?"

" _And just how would that help—_ " Widowmaker abruptly went silent for a brief moment before speaking again. " _I'll make it happen. Keep our playmate busy._ "

"Oh…goodie," Amos mumbled, worriedly checking his handgun. "I have the best job in the _world_."

Once he was sure he had ammunition, Amos took aim and fired several shots at the electrically-empowered Overwatch agent. The man's speed allowed him to dodge with ease, however, and in moments Amos found himself literally face-to-face with his foe.

"Uh, hi?" Amos waved nervously as the man stood imposingly in front of him.

"Hello, there," the man replied, drawing his fist back. Amos ducked down and scrambled away, firing shots behind him to try and keep the agent at bay.

 _Really hope Widow can get those sprinklers turned on,_ Amos thought. _Sometime soon would be really—_

A shot rang out, and one of the sprinkler heads fell to the floor beside him, allowing the water within its source to rain down.

 _Or…she can just do that,_ Amos' thought train continued. _That works, too._

Several more shots rang out in quick succession, and a sprinkler head clattered on the ground for each one. More and more rain came down inside the museum, and the once-unflappable Overwatch agent was now looking around worriedly. Using his electrically-enhanced speed in this changed environment would do much more harm than good.

But now that he was standing still, Widowmaker was able to fit him into her scope's view.

"There you are," said the sniper with a predatory smile.

Amos tensed; there was no way he could save this man without being killed himself. All he could do now was shut his eyes as an inevitable death prepared to latch onto his conscience.

Widowmaker's finger snaked around her gun's trigger.

The Overwatch agent stood as defiantly as he could.

"HEADS UP, BLUE LADY!"

Widowmaker whipped her gaze behind her to find a bola with tasers attached suddenly hurtling towards her. With a grimace, she disengaged her grappling hook and acrobatically flipped down, landing atop the Doomfist gauntlet's casing. Soon, a familiar young woman pole vaulted through the door and swiped down several grunts who had the misfortune of being in her way.

"Man, I should leave home more often," Tina quipped as she rested her quarterstaff on her shoulders. "I get to see all sorts of cool and weird stuff."

Widowmaker frowned, her typical scowl enhancing. Why was it always plucky children who interrupted this specific job?

"You?" the electrical Overwatch agent gasped. "You followed me?"

"You still got answers I want," Tina remarked. "And I'm not letting you go until I get them."

By this point, the rain inside had stopped, a coating of water spread across the floor. Amos had his gun at the ready, but chose to remain by some of his fallen comrades. Tina took a place beside the masked man as Widowmaker, still standing on top of the gauntlet's storage unit, looked on with a raised eyebrow.

"This is your denouement, Miss," the Overwatch agent declared with a dramatic point towards the blue-skinned sniper. "Your men are in no condition to fight, leaving you outnumbered. I suggest you surrender and leave peacefully."

Widowmaker simply chuckled.

"Please," she said. She fiddled a bit with her rifle and its sniper barrel retracted, turning the gun into something more resembling a semi-automatic assault rifle. "I will have this gauntlet."

She took aim, but her adversary stood firm.

"If I discharge any electricity in here, with all this water around, more than my suit will pay the price," said the masked man from Overwatch. "A single jolt would spread throughout the whole building, potentially giving fatal electrocutions to everyone here…including you and your men."

Widowmaker paused, scowling once more. Amos hefted one grunt's arm onto his shoulder, expecting a need to make a quick getaway before the fighting started.

But his superior stepped down from her perch.

"As well as rendering the gauntlet useless to all parties," she said as she put her gun away. "Men, we're pulling out! Anyone who can walk, gather the wounded and meet me outside on the next ship, ETA three minutes."

 _Oh, thank God!_ Amos thought with a sigh of relief. _She's not like Reaper!_

Widowmaker's grappling hook carried her back through the broken window and out into the city. The remaining grunts, Amos included, followed her orders and dragged their fallen comrades outside. Tina leaned on her staff as she watched them leave.

"Thank you, Miss," the masked man said to the street urchin once the last of the Talon grunts had left. "You may very well have saved my life, and done something good today."

"Whatever," Tina said flippantly as she slipped her staff onto her back. "Now, you owe me, old man."

"I suppose I do, don't I?" the Overwatch agent laughed. "Very well. My name will need to remain a secret for now, but I'll tell you everything I can."

* * *

As Widowmaker had promised, a second dropship touched down on a roof near the museum. The remaining mobile grunts busily lifted their immobile comrades inside, placing them on whatever seats were available. Amos sat his grunt on the last remaining bed in the medical bay, then poked his head outside to check on things.

All soldiers were present and accounted for; they were battered and bruised, but no casualties. Tina and the masked man were now leaving the museum. Amos sighed. The mission was finally over.

"Clemens."

He tensed immensely at the sharp mention of his name. Thankful that his helmet hid the fearful clenching of his teeth, Amos turned around to find that Widowmaker had somehow gotten into the ship ahead of him without anyone knowing. She stood there with arms crossed, piercing eyes trained on the timid soldier and ever-present scowl in place.

"Y-yes, boss?" Amos stammered.

"That grenade you threw in the fight wasn't standard-issue," Widowmaker said flatly. "Where did you get it?"

"Wha—oh, uh, this old thing?" Amos sputtered as he held up one of his black spheres. "It-it's just something I threw together in school once, it's…about as useless as it looks, really."

"Hmm," Widowmaker grunted, still scowling. "Very well. Dismissed."

She headed deeper into the dropship, allowing Amos to relax with a sigh.

 _She's going to be the death of me, isn't she?_ he thought worriedly as he rejoined his fellow grunts. _And I bet I won't even see it coming until the bullet's already in my brain._

Up in the cockpit, Widowmaker gripped a ceiling-mounted handle as the pilot raised the ship into the sky. She glanced back at the grunts' area out of the corner of her golden eye.

There was an obvious failure in Clemens' conditioning. He would have to be watched.


	4. Chapter 4: Old Warriors

Chapter 4: Old Warriors

"So," Tina began as she leaned on a lamp post, "what'cha got for me?"

The street urchin and the electrically-empowered Overwatch agent had since departed the Numani museum's Doomfist exhibit. The man in question sat on a bench beside his new acquaintance, mask still in place as he looked to her.

"That would depend entirely on what you want to know," he said as he leaned back on the bench. "I'm afraid my personal life is off-limits, however."

"Not like I'm interested in how many kids you chase off your lawn or whatever," Tina shrugged. "All I want to know is if you work for Overwatch or not."

"Truthfully…no," the man said, "but—"

"Then why the hell does that suit you're wearing have an Overwatch symbol on the shoulder?" Tina interrupted, indicating the emblem in question with the tip of her staff.

"I'll be getting to that if I'm not interrupted," the supposed agent said without even a hint of irritation.

Tina frowned and snorted, but nonetheless fell silent.

"Actually, before I do," the man continued, "there are some things I'd like to know about you."

"Don't pretend to be my buddy, Watchbait," Tina spat rather viciously.

"That's one question I have; what does 'Watchbait' mean?" he asked.

"It's what I call those stupid people they put on the Overwatch posters and other promo stuff," Tina explained with a grimace. "Y'know, the ones with all the special powers and gear that trick people into thinking they'll be big-time movie stars and superheroes? They're just bait, and people just eat it up every damn time. Hook, line, and sinker."

"Hmm…I see," the man said, putting a fist to his chin. "Overwatch are villains to you, I take it?"

"Naw, you think?" Tina snapped with an incredulous look. "Only been talking shit about them since the day they ruined my life."

The masked man stood up and looked straight at her.

"The people of Overwatch have saved countless lives," he said. "What did they do that leads you to believe they—"

Tina's eyes suddenly narrowed.

"Hold up," she said, holding up one hand to silence the false agent and using her other hand to prepare her staff. "We got company."

Tina's eyes narrowed as they focused on a nearby alley. With her staff held out defensively, she darted behind a nearby parked bus before slipping past it to the other side of the street. The street urchin flattened herself against the wall beside the alley, slithering closer to the entrance. The masked man could only look on in confusion.

"HEY!" Tina suddenly bellowed down the alley. "GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE, BUB!"

Nothing. She peered into the alley, finding only wastebaskets and closed windows. Tina shrugged; the city was much cleaner than she gave it credit for.

"Okay, maybe I was wrong—"

"No, wait!" the masked man cried. "On the walkway above us!"

Tina's eyes shot up and beheld a second masked man, this one bearing a black covering over his face distinguished by a large red visor. A wrinkled forehead and a mess of chalk white hair emerged from above the new man's mask, the latter matching with his white-and-blue jacket. Realizing he had been spotted, the man in the visor pointed a rather large rifle down at the electric man beneath him.

"Get down!" the original masked man cried as the intruder opened fire, raining down a volley of blue lasers. Tina took cover in the alley as her electrically-powered companion dashed behind the bus and flattened his hand. "LIGHTNING BLAST!"

In a quick movement, the electric warrior spun out from behind the bus and sent out a burst of lightning at the attacker. With inhuman speed and seemingly no aid, however, the white-haired man rolled out of the way and shot a triad of small rockets from his rifle. This time, it was the lightning man's turn to dodge, his suit charging with electricity as he leapt into the air and out of the way. With a quick jump off the wall, the electric man propelled himself onto the same walkway used by the attacker.

"Nice move," grunted the visor-wearing man in a gruff voice. "Lose the flashiness and you might have something."

"I think I'll stick with what I know," the electric warrior replied before releasing another lightning blast. Visor man outright leapt off the walkway, somersaulting on the ground without even slowing down. The lightning wielder made to pursue, but stopped for a moment when he saw something on his attacker's back.

A red number 76.

"Now I know who you are," the electric man said as he vaulted off the walkway, landing several feet in front of his visor-wearing foe. "They call you Soldier 76, do they not? The man who has been raiding Overwatch facilities and stealing their technology?"

"What they call me doesn't matter," Soldier 76 replied before quickly firing his rifle again. The electric fighter leapt aside just as quickly, with the mysterious soldier's aim in hot pursuit.

Meanwhile, Tina grimaced as she gripped her staff tightly. She still needed answers from her spark-spraying companion, so whether she liked it or not, she needed to help him. With this in mind, she dashed out of the alley, lobbing another one of her taser bolas.

Unfortunately, Soldier 76 saw her movement out of the corner of his eye, and quickly threw himself to the ground. The bola sailed over him, and without a second's hesitation, he pressed a button on his rifle and fired a trinity of small rockets directly at Tina.

"MISS!" the electric fighter cried in horror.

Tina's eyes went wide as she dove aside, rolling into a nearby shop as the Soldier's missiles exploded behind her. The shop patrons shrieked and fled the scene immediately, but Tina remained to peek out the now-broken window. The false Overwatch agent had flown into a rage, relentlessly swinging his fists at Soldier 76. Tina prepared to pole vault outside, but something sharp hit her in the shoulder.

" _Nāmī_."

Her vision clouded as her strength ebbed away, and despite her best efforts, Tina fell unconscious.

* * *

"HOW DARE YOU!" the electric man roared as he continued his assault. "WHAT SORT OF SOLDIER COMMITS MURDER SO FREELY?!"

"I've got a job to do, and she was looking to get in the way!" Soldier 76 spat back. He thrust the butt of his rifle forth in an attempt to club his foe, but the faux Overwatch agent swiftly kicked the weapon up into the air. "Right. Hard way it is."

The grizzled soldier and the electric warrior exchanged blow after blow through hand-to-hand combat. 76's speed and strength were beyond that of a normal human, but so were those of the lightning fighter. Few of their punches and kicks actually landed, due in no small part to the two's quick blocks and interceptions.

"Not bad, for a thief," Soldier 76 growled.

"Right back at you," the fake Overwatch agent growled. He flattened his hand again. "LIGHTNING BLAST!"

76 didn't dodge this time; he charged forth and tackled the electrically-powered man to the ground, causing the lightning bolt to soar into the air and fizzle out harmlessly. The Soldier had his foe pinned, but in moments the pseudo-agent had kicked him off, and the fight continued.

* * *

"Waking up already, are we?"

Tina groaned groggily as she came to. Sitting on the shop floor before her was an old woman dressed in a black-and-blue uniform and hood, with a tattered tan cloak surrounding the elder woman's body. Besides the thin sniper rifle she carried, her most notable feature was a metallic patch over her right eye, partially obscured by a portion of her pale grey hair.

"Granted, those sleep darts aren't meant to work for very long," the old woman said, "but that still says a lot about you."

"Who the hell are—" Tina reached for her quarterstaff, but it was not there. Neither was her collection of bolas or her handmade mines. All of them rested beside the old woman. "You took my stuff?!"

"Well, I did have to disarm you to keep you out of trouble," the old woman shrugged. "I'm surprised you can move so quickly with all this on you, especially these medicinal mines—did you make them yourself?"

"Don't act like my friend, you old hag!" Tina spat as she rose to her feet.

"Now, that was just rude," the old woman scolded. "Didn't your parents teach you not to talk to people like that?"

"Little hard to learn things from dead people," Tina replied.

The old woman paused. She bowed her head.

"I'm sorry," the elder said. "I didn't mean to—"

"Oh, shut up!" Tina rolled her eyes. "Why does everyone say that every time I say my parents are dead? They've been dead since I was little, that's more than enough time to get over it."

"Even so…as a mother, I know how important family is," the old woman said. "Tell me, what's your name?"

"None of your business," Tina growled.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. None-of-your-business," the woman smirked. "My name is Ana. I believe you've already met my good friend Jack."

"Who's—wait," Tina blinked as she looked around, finding a window to look out of. Soldier 76 and her electric companion were still fighting outside. "You're with that piece of shit?!"

"Yes, he has certainly fallen from grace in recent times," Ana sighed. "You'll get no argument from me there. But, he's still family to me, so I help him where I can."

"Let me show you what I think of—" Tina whirled around and raised her fist, but Ana's rifle pointed directly at her face.

"I don't want to hurt you. Don't make me," the old woman warned. "This rifle doesn't shoot bullets, but it does shoot a peculiar breed of dart. Whether or not my target is healed or hurt is up to me."

Tina snarled, but reluctantly crossed her arms. Ana lowered her rifle.

"Now, then," 76's companion continued, "what's a young lady like you doing with all this equipment? And how did you get tangled up with that man in the electric suit?"

"Like I said, none of your damn business," Tina spat.

"Honestly, there's no need to be so uncooperative," Ana sighed. "I'm only trying to help you."

"Yeah, heard that before," Tina snorted.

"From who?"

"Overwatch," Tina growled. "And they ruined my life."

Ana paused again. "And how did they do that?"

"All right, fine, you win!" Tina huffed. "So I was orphaned when I was little. This art collector took me in, plus a lot of other kids like me. He gave us a home and food, but in exchange, we had to steal things for him."

"Ah, yes, I've heard about that case," Ana nodded. "Overwatch stepped in and thwarted that man's operations. As I recall, all of the children he used for his crimes were sent to proper foster homes."

" _Proper_?" Tina repeated, the word dripping with disgust. "Gimme a break! The old farts I was sent to were just a couple of boring control freaks!"

She sighed and leaned against the wall. The tone of her voice softened slightly.

"All I could think about the whole time I had those fake parents was how much I missed my old life," Tina continued. A small but fond smile spread across her face. "I learned so much cool stuff back then: how to build the mines and bolas you found on me, how to use martial arts, how to pick pockets and never get noticed…I had the time of my life."

Her smile faded quickly.

"Then when Overwatch butted in, they tried to shove their version of a 'normal life' down my throat, and I hated it," Tina said bitterly. "Nothing I was learning in that damn school they stuck me in was useful. None of the new people my age were any fun. So…I just left. Went back to the streets, where I belonged."

Ana sighed as she stood up. She put her rifle on her back.

"Come here, child," she said warmly as she embraced Tina. "You remind me a little bit of my daughter. And I will tell you the same thing I've told her time and time again; the life you want isn't always the life you need."

Ana held Tina at arms' length. She focused her gaze on Tina's young face, so much so that she never noticed the street urchin's moving hands.

"You should go back to your foster family," the sniper continued. "I'm positive they're worried about you. There must be people at your school who are worried about you, too. They're worried because they _care_ about you, and they want what's best for you."

Tina frowned.

"Why does everyone think what's 'best for me' isn't for me to decide?" she grumbled.

"Because we've spent enough time in this world to know how it works," Ana smiled. "Now, where are you from? I'll take you back to—"

She suddenly found herself staring down the barrel of her own sidearm, a sleep dart loaded and ready.

"I'll pass," Tina smirked as she fired one shot into the elder woman's stomach. Ana fell to the floor, already unconscious, and Tina quickly gathered her things.

* * *

Outside, the battle still raged. The two masked men kept pace with one another, neither of them even slowing down. Eventually, however, Soldier 76 caught sight of his discarded rifle lying on the sidewalk. With a swift kick, he downed his electric foe and quickly made for his rifle.

"Past time I finished this," 76 growled as he reached for the rifle.

But then, in a blur of movement, it was gone.

"Hey, ugly!" Tina yelled, holding the Soldier's rifle in her hands. "Lose something?!"

She immediately took aim at Soldier 76 and let loose, prompting him to duck into cover behind the bus. Tina kept firing wildly, shooting out half the bus' windows until her newly-acquired gun began to only click. All her ammunition was gone, giving the Soldier an opportunity to quickly knock her to the ground and retrieve his weapon.

"Young punk," he spat as he slipped a new ammunition cartridge into his rifle. "You have no idea what you're getting into."

76 raised his rifle and prepared to confront the electric man again, only for his opponent to suddenly appear in front of him.

"That makes three of us," the lightning warrior growled, pushing the rifle aside and driving his fist into Soldier 76's jaw.

"Hey, Electro-Jerk!" Tina barked. "Hold him still for a sec!"

"Right!" the newly-dubbed Electro-Jerk complied, slipping behind 76 and wrapping his arms around the man's shoulders. "Hurry, he's stronger than he looks!"

Tina smirked and took aim with Ana's dart shooter. The Soldier stopped struggling for a moment and stared.

"Where did you get—"

"I hope you have some real shit dreams, asshole!" Tina snarled as she fired several darts into 76's chest. The old soldier finally began to slow, and soon collapsed on the pavement, completely unconscious. "Ugh, finally."

"Agreed," the electric man sighed, looking down sadly at the fallen soldier. He then looked up at Tina, who gave him a raised eyebrow. "You know…we work surprisingly well together. The two of us could do so much good for the world."

"Look, all I want is some answers from you, then I want to go home to Ilios," Tina huffed. "Playing hero isn't my thing."

"You're actually quite good at it," said the false Overwatch agent. "This is the second time you've pulled me out of a potentially fatal situation. And I have no doubt there are people in the world who could use the sort of help that only you can provide."

"Hmm…well, when you put it that way," Tina hummed, resting her staff on her shoulders. "And I have always wanted to see the world."

"Then I'm happy to give you a good opportunity," Electro-Jerk said with a smile in his voice, holding out a hand. "Partners?"

"Mmm…for now," Tina said as she punched his open palm. "So, what am I supposed to call you, anyway? Electric Blue Flying Weirdo, EBFW for short?"

Electric Blue Flying Weirdo simply laughed.

"Well, seeing as I haven't quite picked out a special name for myself, that will do for now," EBFW replied. "Now, shall we leave matters here to the authorities?"

"Eh, this guy and the friend I got this thing from will probably be gone long before then," Tina said as she casually dropped Ana's dart shooter on 76's body. "Cops are slow as hell."

"It does seem that way sometimes, doesn't it?" EBFW chuckled. "Well, given that we don't have the time for them to question us as well, I suggest we simply move on. Is there anywhere in particular you'd like to go?"

"Meh, not really," Tina shrugged. "Surprise me."

"I'll do my best," EBFW chuckled again, and with that, the two set off for Numbani's airport.


	5. Chapter 5: Liberation

**Hello, again. Sorry for the delay in uploading this one; Thanksgiving's coming up where I am, and I needed to make some hefty changes to some of the scenes in this chapter and the next one.**

 **Also, thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read so far. Hope you enjoy what's to come!**

Chapter 5: Liberation

It was once said that one should take the cards he or she is dealt in life.

Amos was tempted to find the person who said that phrase and give them the sternest possible talking to.

Several days had passed since Talon's botched Numbani operation. Amos was eating lunch alone in the mess hall as he contemplated his state of affairs. While he still intended to escape from Talon when the opportunity presented itself, the new knowledge of his superior immensely complicated things.

Widowmaker's image would not leave his mind. And he hated it.

She was beautiful; there was no doubt about that. But Amos had also learned a number of unsettling things about her since their first encounter. First and foremost, Widowmaker was the one who committed the famed assassination of Shambali monk and Omnic rights activist Tekharta Mondatta, despite the interference of a former Overwatch agent. That alone cemented her status as a deadly and vicious assassin who knew _exactly_ where to shoot in order to kill.

Second, a number of rather eerie rumors surrounded Widowmaker. Some said that she felt no emotion, save the satisfaction of a job well-done. Others said that she lived only for the kill, and her vampiric thirst for blood did seem rather prevalent when she was raring to slay the electrically-empowered interloper. Still others in Talon's ranks—mainly the more jocular grunts—said that she was just another lonely woman looking for love in all the wrong places; those brave souls who tried anything to support that claim had been in the medical bay for months now, provided their bodies had even been recovered.

And yet, in spite of hearing all this—as well as witnessing Widowmaker's strict dedication to the mission first-hand—Amos couldn't bring himself to hate her. He feared her, certainly. But, even if she was such an abominable person, Widowmaker could easily have sacrificed her soldiers to retrieve Doomfist's gauntlet…but she didn't. That decision stood out in Amos' mind.

Her looks were also something that stuck with him.

 _No! No more bad ideas!_ Amos thought as he shook his head with a nervous growl at himself. With a sigh, he stuffed some of his food into his mouth. _For one thing, she's a high-ranking Talon operative—hell, I'm pretty sure she's their best—and I'm just a flipping grunt. For another…I'm pretty sure she could splatter my brains out the second I even think about leaving Talon—OH GOD, WAIT!_

He suddenly spun around in his chair and looked behind him, then around him. Only grunts were in sight, some of them staring at his paranoia.

 _Ohhh, thank God, she's not here,_ he thought with a sigh of relief. _Where does she eat, anyway? Probably in her own private spot. Yeah, she's probably treated like royalty there. Hopefully, it's far away from where I am._

Amos glanced at his helmet resting on the table next to his food tray. He picked it up and looked into its crimson eyes again.

 _Is there a way I can wear this thing while eating?_ he thought. _I wonder if that'll protect me from headshots._

His musings were cut off by a blaring siren cutting through the air. Amos just heaved an irritated sigh.

 _I swear to God, if this is another drill—_

Amos' thoughts were cut off by the scramble of his fellow Talon soldiers as they filed out of the mess hall, guns ready. With a worried look, Amos donned his helmet and joined them, handgun prepared.

"All of you, fan out!" the lead grunt called. "A test subject has escaped! Our job is to track it down and neutralize it by any means necessary!"

 _Test subject?_ Amos repeated in his head. _Oh, boy…I have a bad feeling about this._

As directed, the soldiers spread out down several hallways. Amos joined three other grunts as they advanced down one of the hallways, scanning for something out of the ordinary. But, as far as Amos could tell, the dark grey metal of the walls was the same as ever.

"So…any idea what we're looking for?" Amos ventured.

"Don't know myself," one of the grunts shrugged. "One of Talon's science projects, I think. Something to do with an Omnic."

"Narrows it down, at least," Amos shrugged.

"No kidding," agreed a third grunt. "Omnics aren't exactly in surplus around these parts."

As if on cue, something slammed Amos into the nearest wall and ripped his gun out of his hand. The gun went off several times, followed by the falling bodies of the three grunts accompanying Amos. The violent force then pinned him to the wall, pointing his own gun into his eye but also allowing him a view of his attacker.

It was indeed an Omnic, specifically one of the more human-like variant typically used for diplomatic or technological duties. The silver body and slit-like eyes indicative of the being's mechanical nature remained, as did the unmoving lower jaw, but some details were…different. Where most Omnics had several blue circles on their foreheads, this one had three red dots spread out in a triangular shape. The lower jaw was black as coal, as were other secondary areas of its body such as the shoulders and knees.

"Don't move," the Omnic growled in what sounded like a slight British accent. Amos blinked under his helmet; the Omnic's voice sounded rather young. "Tell me where I can find a way out of here."

"D-down the hall and first door to the right," Amos blurted. "The dropships are there, you can probably hijack one."

"Good to know," the Omnic nodded. "Now, if you want to live, you'll tell nobody I came this way. Got it?"

"Y-yeah, yeah, I'm good," Amos stuttered.

The Omnic roughly shoved Amos against the wall and began to dash down the hall, keeping the stolen handgun. Amos gave his head a shake as he breathed a sigh of relief, but saw something that sent a chill down his spine.

The shadows on the floor were moving.

"H-hey, wait!" Amos called after the Omnic.

"What do you want?!" the robot snapped back, but looked down and saw the shadows swirling. "What the…?"

The darkness rose into a human-sized pillar that quickly faded into a more recognizable shape, a muscular man garbed in a long black trenchcoat. Amos grimaced and stifled a groan; he knew exactly who this was. If the white mask vaguely reminiscent of an avian skull was not enough of a dead giveaway, the two massive shotguns the figure pulled out from his coat were another clue.

"Death walks among you," rasped the mercenary named Reaper as he quickly opened fire on the Omnic. The machine quickly scrambled down the hall, following Amos' directions and diving into the first door on the right that it could find.

 _Oh, great, now what do I do?_ Amos thought as Reaper pursued by turning most of his body into a dark smoke and drifting after the Omnic. With more footsteps approaching, Amos set his jaw and followed after Talon's preferred hired gun.

The dropship hanger was massive, containing a number of the colossal black dropships Talon often used to transport its personnel. Gunfire reached Amos' ears the moment he came in, with the Omnic using Amos' handgun against Reaper's dual shotguns. The sentient machine ducked behind a dropship for cover as Reaper pressed his attack, alternating shots from each gun as he advanced on his prey.

Then the shotguns could only click. Sensing an opportunity, the Omnic bolted out from cover and opened fire, but Reaper was gone in a swish of inky mist, dropping both his shotguns in the process. As the footsteps of reinforcements grew closer, the Omnic looked to the doorway and quickly shot the nearby control panel, forcing the blast doors shut.

"You've sealed your own fate."

With a dramatic line, Reaper reappeared behind the Omnic, pulling another pair of massive shotguns out of his coat (prompting Amos to do a double-take). The Omnic rolled aside as his shadowy foe opened fire once more, evading Reaper's shots as best as he could.

"Are you just going to stand there, grunt?" Reaper snapped at Amos.

"Well, I mean, you _are_ the one who tells all his soldiers to stay out of his way—"

"Shut up and do your job!"

Amos winced under his helmet at Reaper's harsh tone.

"Yes, sir," he whimpered as he pulled out one of his sticky grenades. He looked to the Omnic, then back to Reaper, then back to the Omnic again.

He was going to be in these situations frequently, wasn't he?

Amos' eyes darted about, and fell upon Reaper's discarded first pair of shotguns. An idea took shape as he looked back to the Omnic, the robot still darting around and exchanging fire with Reaper. Amos ran forth, grenade at the ready.

And proceeded to trip on one of Reaper's fallen guns.

"Oops!" he said rather loudly as he fell to the floor, tossing the grenade up into the air and onto Reaper. The mercenary was quickly covered in the slime, dropping his shotguns again with a throaty growl of rage. "Crap! Sorry! Uh, no offense—could you not leave these things, you know, just…lying around so often?"

To illustrate, he kicked the gun he tripped on aside, watching as it bounced off of the nearest dropship's hull and over in the Omnic's direction. The humanoid machine regarded Amos' actions for a moment with a confused tilt of the head, but had little time to consider the situation as Reaper's body became smoke once more. With a nod to Amos, the Omnic snatched up the offered shotgun as Reaper reformed in front of him.

"Just die already!" the Omnic yelled as he charged Reaper just as the grim gunslinger pulled out a third pair of shotguns.

With a mighty swing, the Omnic clubbed Reaper in the head, causing him to drop his guns once more. The mercenary readjusted his skull-like mask just in time to see the Omnic pick up one of his own guns and aim it at him.

"You can't be serious," Reaper snarled in disbelief.

"Try me, meatbag!" the Omnic snapped as he opened fire. Shot after shot pierced Reaper's body, each one eliciting a pained grunt from the dark figure. Darkness burst from the ever-increasing wounds on Reaper's body as the Omnic continued unloading the gun, and with a few more shots, Reaper vanished in smoke. "Finally."

"Oh, he'll be back," Amos sighed dejectedly. "Reaper's survived being incinerated by lightning, he can survive a few bullets."

"What even _is_ he?" the Omnic asked, clutching the gun closer to him.

"No idea," Amos shook his head. "All I know is that he's a jerk, and that Talon really likes having him around."

The Omnic was silent for a moment. Then he looked Amos in the eye.

"Why did you help me?" the machine asked.

"Well…you're trying to escape, right?" Amos replied.

"What about it?"

"Um…I was wondering if, maybe," Amos said slowly, glancing to a dropship, "you had room for one more."

The Omnic would likely have blinked in bewilderment if he could do so. Instead, he followed Amos' gaze to the ship.

"I do owe you, I suppose," the Omnic said. "You know how to fly this?"

"Nope."

"Oh, brilliant," the Omnic sighed. "Well, get on, I'll see if I can figure it out."

The two boarded the dropship, the Omnic taking Reaper's gun with him and Amos taking a moment to check the blast door. There was a flickering light visible underneath it.

"Oh, sh—they're trying to torch the door open, we need to move!" Amos yelled.

With a nod of acknowledgement, his new Omnic companion quickly sat down in the pilot's chair. After studying the computer panels, buttons, and sticks on the console for a moment, the Omnic began fiddling with them. Suddenly, the ship came to life, lifting off the ground and barreling towards the sealed bay doors.

"Uh, are you sure this is a good ide—" Amos' question was cut off when the ship rammed into doors, creating a massive dent in both bodies and forcing him to grab onto the nearest chair. "Okay, I'm having a lot of second thoughts right now!"

The Omnic ignored him as he reared the ship back, then rammed the doors again. They buckled more, but still held.

"Please tell me you're not going to ram them aga—"

Amos squeezed his chair as the Omnic predictably rammed the doors again. This time, the doors broke free and fell aside, allowing the ship's exit to freedom.

"There!" the Omnic sighed, fiddling with the controls a little more. The words 'AUTOPILOT ONLINE' flashed on one of the computer panels. "I'm tired of flying this thing already."

"Wait, how'd you figure it out so fast?" Amos blinked. "I mean, I'm not complaining, but—"

"Get stuffed!" the Omnic snapped. "You and yours know damn well what you did to me!"

"Um…actually, I don't," Amos replied nervously. "I'm a grunt, no one tells me anything like that."

The Omnic made a noise reminiscent of snorting, but looked out the window. Silence hovered between them for a moment.

"You said those people were called 'Talon'?" the Omnic asked. "Some of them—dressed like you—picked me off the street. I don't know how long ago, I just know it wasn't long, maybe a few days. They…"

He put a hand to his head.

"I don't know how they did it," he continued, "but they…pulled me out of my body and stuck me in this one. First thing I saw today was my human body lying on a table across from me."

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait, _wait_!" Amos sputtered as he threw up his hands, palms out. "How the—they did— _what_?!"

"Really sounds like a Hal-Fred Glitchbot movie, doesn't it?" the Omnic said with a bitter, ironic laugh. "They said something about controlling me, but…I was able to get out before they put in whatever they had that would let them do that. Then, I ran into you."

Amos sat down in his chair, letting a moment of quiet pass before speaking again. "I'm…sorry that happened to you."

The Omnic's head snapped up. "You're _sorry_?! Your people made me into something the world hates, and you're _sorry_?!"

Amos cringed. "Y…yes?"

"Screw you!" Talon's Omnic yelled as he rose to his feet, angrily pointing a finger. "I'm completely alone now, because of your people! You could never understand how that feels!"

Amos stopped cringing for a moment. He took a deep breath and looked the Omnic straight in the eye.

"You mean…when everyone you've ever known turns against you for something that isn't really your fault?" he asked. "When the world makes it seem like you're the one to blame for everything that goes wrong? When the only option you have to keep from getting hurt is to completely isolate yourself?" He shrugged. "Does that sound about right?"

The Omnic's baleful posture softened. "You…really do know, don't you? How it feels, I mean."

"Every day of my life…especially since I finished school."

More silence. Eventually, the Omnic broke it with a sigh.

"Look…I was going to try to risk heading home," the machine began. "I can take you with me, if you want."

Amos looked up.

"You…really?" he asked. "You'd do that?"

"Hey, you're about the only human I can actually deal with right now," the human-turned-Omnic shrugged. "I think I know a place the both of us can go. We can figure out what to do along the way."

The machine went back to tampering with the ship's controls.

"Wait, hold on," Amos spoke up. "Actually…we should probably try and crash this ship. Talon probably has a tracking device or something in here."

"Oh, good point," the Omnic replied. "I think I can make that happen, hold on."

"Uh, wait, before you do," Amos interjected as he stood up, "can I, uh…have my gun back?"

"Right, my bad, here," the Omnic said as he tossed Amos the handgun without even looking. "This is going to be a bumpy ride, so grab onto something!"

The ship suddenly lurched downward. Amos gripped his chair again as the boarding door fell open, letting in a massive howling gust.

"Might be a good idea to jump!" the Omnic yelled over the noise of the outside world. He quickly came up beside Amos.

"What?!" Amos yelled, eyes bulging under his helmet. "Can I at least get a parachute first?!"

"Not sure we have time!" the Omnic cried. The dots on his forehead flickered. "And it's probably better that we go our separate ways, anyhow! Been nice meeting you!"

Before Amos could reply, the Omnic quickly shoved him out of the ship's door. The only sound he could make now was a long scream.

* * *

His eyes cracked open.

Bright lights poured into his vision, surrounded by a sea of white. Men in long coats surrounded him. On the shoulders of each was the black-and-red "T" of Talon. Amos' heart plummeted into his stomach.

 _This is what I get for trusting people._

He looked around; he seemed to be in the France base's medical wing. There were some bandages and casts on his bruised body, but otherwise he seemed fine…in the physical sense.

Amos ignored the passing doctors and soldiers as he sank his head into his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. The only good news here is that he was still alive. Everything else was bad news: he was back in Talon, he was now recovering from his obvious injuries (which would inevitably hinder any future self-preservation activities), and he was alone. Again. His escape attempt had failed, and now—unless a miracle happened and Reaper had reported him as incompetent rather than disloyal—he would be scrutinized in case of any future plans to flee.

But, if he stayed, he would die. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday, somehow, he would meet his end, whether he was ready or not.

 _Damned if I do,_ he thought with a sigh, _damned if I don't._


	6. Chapter 6: Onward and Upward

Chapter 6: Onward and Upward

"All right, lads, let's bring this thing down!"

Yells rang out through a small construction zone in King's Row, England. Workers fired up their machinery and set their armaments of demolition into position. A wrecking ball attached to a crane dangled ominously in place beside its target, an old building looking as if the upper half had been completely burnt off.

"What even happened to this one?" one of the workers asked.

"You didn't hear?" another replied. "Some Omnic rights activists lived here once. Place got torched after that Omnic monk got shot. Lot of death in here, for people _and_ machines."

"Probably for the best that it goes down, then," the first worker shrugged. "Ready with that ball, Frank?"

Frank's only answer was a gurgle as his body tumbled out of the crane's cockpit.

"The hell—Frank!" one of the workers cried as he ran to his friend, only for a gunshot to ring out and his body to crumble onto the ground, riddled with holes.

Some workers went to their phones and called the authorities. Others held up their tools like weapons and charged forth, ready to fight off whatever was killing them. Then, their attacker stepped out of the crane.

"Get out of here, meatbags!" Talon's rogue Omnic growled as he aimed Reaper's shotgun at them.

The workers found out the hard way that the Omnic had learned how to reload it.

* * *

Amos was able to get out of his medbay bed now. He didn't want to—it was at least partially safe there—but he did.

Talon's access to the latest in medical technology meant that he only had broken bones for a few days, and he had spent most of that time unconscious from his fall out of the dropship. Today, it was back to business as usual, and at the moment, Amos was on his way to get lunch. He already had today's routine in mind: get food, fiddle with it a bit and make enough noise to maintain his "insane" reputation with his peers, and of course, pray that he didn't spontaneously die in a hostile environment.

Then all his brain activity ground to a halt when he turned a corner.

Widowmaker was there, casually leaning against a wall and reading a rather gothic-looking novel titled _Follow the Spiders_.

Amos gasped and flattened himself against the wall, out of her sight. She and Reaper were the absolute _last_ people he wanted to see right now (though Reaper narrowly beat her out in that regard). But, the only way to the mess hall was past her. Amos sighed; at least he had a few secret weapons in his pouches for when things went south.

With a deep breath for good luck, he turned the corner again and began to walk down the hall. He trained his eyes on the end of the hall; he couldn't let Widowmaker distract him.

 _Just keep walking, just keep walking, just keep walking…_

"Ah, Clemens."

 _Son of a-!_

Amos spun in her direction as she slipped a piece of paper into her book and clapped it shut. "Oh, uh—hi, boss, I, uh—hello!"

He quickly threw up a panicked salute. Widowmaker just rolled her eyes.

"At ease, we're off duty," she sighed. "And stop tripping over yourself for once."

"Um…okay?" Amos blinked.

"Good enough, for now," Widowmaker shrugged. "I was actually looking to run into you."

Amos' face paled. "W-what about, sir? Er, sorry, ma'am…or, uh—"

"If calling me 'boss' keeps you from looking like less of an imbecile, do it," Widowmaker sighed. "I don't really care what term you use, so long as you know your station."

"Um…okay, uh, boss, I'll…I'll take it," Amos stammered.

" _Anyway_ ," Widowmaker said with an impatient growl as she looked at him, "I needed to talk to you about the escaped test subject. The Omnic?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Amos nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

Widowmaker rolled her eyes again, but continued. "Something isn't adding up about you. When you worked under me in Numbani, you performed exceptionally well."

Amos' eyes went wide. "You really thi—"

"I wasn't finished," Widowmaker snapped. Amos fell silent. "Yes, I do think you performed well in Numbani. Reaper, however, believes you to be much less competent. There's a discrepancy there that I want resolved. What exactly happened when you and he worked to apprehend the escaped Omnic?"

"Um…I was about to throw one of my grenades—the sticky ones," Amos began, "and…I tripped on one of those guns Reaper tends to leave lying around, and…well, I got him instead of the Omnic."

Widowmaker's lip curled downward a little bit. "Then the Omnic incapacitated him, and you pursued it onto the dropship it stole?"

"Uh—" Amos paused. His mind raced to pick up the trail out of trouble she had unintentionally left for him. "Yes, boss."

"What happened then?"

"I…fought the Omnic a little bit, the controls got destroyed, and…the ship crashed," Amos finished.

The sniper's golden eyes pierced into his skull, but he felt their sting more in his chest. He tried not to look at them, even squeezing his own eyes shut and hoping for a miracle.

"I see," Widowmaker said. "I have to say, it would be nice if some of your initiative was spread around to your peers."

Amos couldn't help but open his eyes in surprise. He could see the tiniest of smirks on her face. "Y-you think?"

"I say what I mean, Clemens," Widowmaker said flatly. "Truth be told, I believe someone really does need to talk to Reaper about that littering habit of his, but I suspect it won't do much good."

"Yeah, he, uh…seems to stick with hearing what he wants to hear," Amos said with a small, nervous laugh.

" _Oui._ That seems to be a trend with my coworkers," Widowmaker nodded. Amos' face fell, but he pushed aside the urge to hope that she wasn't talking about him. "That being said…you seem to have the potential to exceed your peers."

Amos stared at her in disbelief. She simply went on.

"I'll be returning to a favorite spot of mine for an upcoming mission," Widowmaker continued, a fond smirk creeping across her blue face. "Perhaps I'll requisition you—and you alone—as my support."

"Wha—really?" Amos blinked.

"Is that unacceptable?" Widowmaker asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, no, no, no!" Amos shook his head and held up his hands. "I'm on board for that, really! It's just—I mean…why me?"

"Ugh, have we not already been over this?" Widowmaker heaved an irritated sigh. "You've been showing initiative, you're capable under fire, and the mission I'll be embarking on requires precision and discretion that your fellow soldiers lack. Besides, I'd like to see where your strengths lie before I recommend you for reassignment to more advanced field work."

"Wha—wow, uh…thanks, boss," Amos sputtered. She actually thought he could be more than just a grunt?

"Mmm," Widowmaker grunted. "I suppose I've held you up from lunch long enough, but I have one last thing I want to ask you."

"Oh, uh, sure. What is it?" Amos asked. He tried to sound confident, but the dread still welled up within him.

Widowmaker looked him straight in the eye. "When exactly did your conditioning fail?"

The amount of profanities Amos was screaming in his mind would have made even a sailor blush. On the outside, the only sound Amos could make was a small, terrified squeal. Underneath his helmet was a wide-eyed stare of horror that he was very happy his superior could not see. But, his reaction did prompt an amused chuckle from her.

"Remember, Clemens: no tripping," Widowmaker smirked, wagging her index finger. "And if you lie to me, I assure you… _I'll know_ ," she added in a sultry tone, leaning her head in closer to his.

"Y-yeah, uh...no pressure or anything," Amos gulped as his face turned red. His superior just chuckled again. "Um…by this point…maybe…about…three, four weeks ago?"

"Hmm," Widowmaker hummed, drawing back into leaning on the wall. "You're obviously out of your element here in Talon. You had an obvious opportunity to flee when you pursued the Omnic. Did you not try and take it?"

Amos went quiet for a moment. "Um…permission to speak freely?"

"We already are, Clemens."

"Oh…right, sorry," Amos winced. He looked around for a brief moment; no one else seemed to be listening. "To be perfectly honest…I've thought about trying to desert for a while. But, every time I do—especially after winding up back here after that Omnic incident—I just…don't see the point anymore. If I leave, I'll probably die. If I stay, I'll still probably die, but it might be a bit later. So, I just figured…might as well take the option that makes me last a little longer."

Widowmaker smirked. "Maybe you're less of a fool than I took you for."

"Uh…thanks?" Amos blinked. There were few compliments that he knew how to take, but that one had just topped the list.

"Think nothing of it," Widowmaker said. "That will be all. Dismissed."

She lifted herself off of the wall and proceeded to leave.

"Uh…I—uh, Widow—boss—wait a sec!" Amos sputtered. Widowmaker glanced at him over her shoulder. "You…really don't mind the whole 'broken conditioning' thing?"

"Eccentricities aside, you seem more effective without it," Widowmaker shrugged. Then she smirked again. "And more entertaining."

"I…have absolutely no idea how to take half of these things you're saying to me," Amos blinked.

"Good," Widowmaker chuckled as she left.

Amos simply stared at her back as she left. He slowly sat down on the bench and stared into space, letting his mind wander. There was a lot for him to take in.

Did she really think he could join her on the sorts of assignments that were above a simple grunt's pay grade? Did she actually think _he_ , of all people, had what it took to be with Talon's elite agents?

He took off his helmet and stared into its blood-red optics. For the first time in years, a small smile crossed his face. Maybe staying with Talon wouldn't be so bad.

After all, people who lifted him up like this—intentionally or otherwise—seemed impossible to find elsewhere.

* * *

Nights were long sometimes. They seemed especially long when Tina was around.

The brown-coated man with the wheeled suitcase had to stifle a chuckle at her antics, though he suspected the other passengers on their flight were significantly less amused at the young woman sprawling her body across several seats and snoring as loudly as possible. He also believed that the flight attendants would be less-than-pleased to find drool stains in the seats and miscellaneous food crumbs scattered across the floor.

"Excuse me, sir?" one such attendant spoke to him.

"Don't worry, she and I will both be out of your hair before you know it," the man smiled with a wave.

"Er, no, it's…your suitcase," the attendant said. "It's beeping. Like a phone's ringtone."

The man's smile faded. "Ah, I…must have left my phone in there by accident. I'll take care of it, don't worry."

Before the attendant could say otherwise, he had already gone down to the baggage area and quickly sealed himself in. Once he located his wheeled suitcase, he unzipped one of the sides and pulled out a familiar lightning-themed helmet. As the attendant had mentioned, it was indeed beeping. With a bemused look at his mask, the man placed the helmet on his head and put a finger to his ear.

"Hello?" he said.

" _Oh! Uh, hello!_ " a voice came through the communicator. It was gruff and deep, but carried no hostility. " _I'm sorry to bother you, but…am I speaking to Thunderstrike?_ "

"I'm…sorry, I don't recognize the name," the man replied.

" _Well, I am positive I have the right number,_ " the gruff voice replied with a slight laugh, " _since this_ _ **is**_ _an Overwatch frequency._ "

The man fell silent.

" _Oh, I'm sorry, I should introduce myself,_ " the voice continued. " _My name's Winston. I'm…I worked with Overwatch in the past. And, you, uh…seem to have gotten your hands on one of the projects we had been working on._ "

"Actually, I'm well aware of the electro-suit's origins," the man called Thunderstrike replied. His voice then took on a more somber tone. "My brother was involved with its creation."

" _Oh! I may actually have met him, I had some input on the electro-suit's designs,_ " Winston said. " _What was his name?_ "

"Finn Raske."

" _Ah, then you must be Gunnar! He told us so much about y—oh, sorry, secret identity, I…sorry,_ " Winston stumbled. " _Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. That's…actually why I wanted to call you._ "

"Hmm, interesting," Gunnar Raske replied. "I'd be happy to hear you out, Winston. What do you have to say?"

" _Well,_ " Winston began, " _when Overwatch was…disbanded…a lot of their projects were forgotten, especially the electro-suit. After all, it had been shelved years before because of how dangerous its effects could potentially be on the user's body. But Finn—your brother—kept working on it himself even after development was canceled. And then, after…_ "

Winston trailed off.

"After he died in the explosion at Overwatch's Swiss headquarters," Gunnar finished sadly, "I…wanted to have the project he put his heart and soul into. So, through some manipulation of the legal system, I came to possess it."

" _Yes…and I understand why you would want to have it,_ " Winston said. " _What I don't understand is why you're doing what you are with it._ "

"It's…a rather long story," Gunnar began. "Ah, Finn and I…we were just fifteen when the original Omnic Crisis started. After being inseparable for all that time, our paths divided when the Crisis ended. He enlisted with Overwatch, and I became a simple man teaching stage theatre to children. Each of us brought hope to the next generation in our own ways."

" _But…something went wrong?_ "

"That it did," Gunnar said grimly. "Losing my twin was just the start. Once Overwatch had fallen…I could see it in my students. When your organization was active, every last one of the boys and girls in my care was a joy to both teach and learn from. There was this one boy, Kevin—he was such a bright young man with an even brighter smile. He knew that the world was going to be safe, thanks to Overwatch's efforts."

He heaved a heavy sigh.

"But, things changed when Overwatch fell," Gunnar continued. "I saw Kevin again a few years ago, at his little sister's high school graduation; his smile wasn't as bright anymore."

His throat tightened.

"A week after I met him then…he decided he didn't want to live in a world without Overwatch," Gunnar finished.

"… _that's…oh,_ " Winston mumbled. " _I'm sorry, I…I don't know what to say._ "

"Neither did I, for a time," Gunnar said. "But I've seen so many young people going out into a world where dark forces are waiting to tear them apart, and no one is watching over them. I needed to change that. I spent years training my body to withstand the suit, and no matter what happens to me, I want to ensure that the next generation has something to believe in. That…is why I fight. I don't just fight for justice. I fight for hope."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Winston spoke up.

" _Gunnar—Thunderstrike—I want you to know that you have my full support,_ " he said. " _I've seen what you saw. I'm seeing the world fall apart around me, and I can't stand by and watch it crumble. One month ago as of today, I've initiated a recall of all former Overwatch personnel; no matter what anyone says, the world needs our people back. And after seeing all those news stories about a man in the electro-suit righting wrongs with his battle cry of 'thunder strike', I…I knew I wasn't the only one who wanted to make a change._ "

Gunnar smiled under his mask. "I'm glad you feel that way, Winston. I would be honored to assist you in any way I can."

" _Fantastic!_ " Winston cheered. " _I mean—ahem—thank you. Well, uh, I should let you go now, I'm sure you have a lot of work to do in the good fight. But, it would be great if we could work together sometime._ "

"Now, that would be a tremendous honor," Gunnar chuckled. "What say we give each other a call if either of us is in need?"

" _Sounds like a plan!_ " Winston agreed. " _Well, I'll be off now. Good luck out there!_ "

"And to you as well," Gunnar smiled. With a click, Winston hung up, and Gunnar fit his mask back into his bag. He couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

The world had changed for the worse. But, now things were looking up.

* * *

Gunnar's thoughts were echoed by his new friend, Winston. The gorilla in question leaned back in a large tire lying flat before his des, gazing with his yellowed eyes at the computer screen bearing a cluster of news reports surrounding Thunderstrike; among them were how he thwarted a bank robbery attempt in Ilios by the two infamous Junkers, and how he even halted a Talon operation in Numbani. And these were just two of his exploits.

Winston smiled. Things were indeed looking up.

"Oh, Win-stooonnnn!" a cockney-accented voice sang as a sprightly young woman with spiky brown hair bounded into the lab, immediately hopping onto the desk beside Winston with a giggle. "I got your favoriiiite!"

"Ugh, for the last time—" Winston groaned as he turned to look at her, "Lena, I told you, no more bananas!"

The woman—known formally as Tracer but informally as Lena Oxton—just laughed again as she pulled a bunch of bananas out from behind her back. Winston could only groan.

"Aw, don't give me that, love! I saw all those peels in the trash!" Tracer giggled as she started poking his armored shoulder with one of the bananas.

"Ugh, fine, fine, you win," Winston grumbled as he took one of her bananas and peeled it. Tracer looked over to the screen and smiled at all the Thunderstrike news reports.

"He's pretty cool, huh?" she asked. Winston could only nod due to the banana in his mouth. "I always love seeing people do things like that. The world could always use more heroes."

"Mmm, without a doubt," Winston agreed as he finished gulping down the banana. "Well, shall we see what else is happening in the world tonight?

He pressed a key with one toe, and Thunderstrike's news reports gave way to a more recent broadcast. The _Atlas News_ logo appeared beside its current newscaster.

"In other news, a strange massacre in King's Row," the newscaster began. "A construction crew was found dead from what appeared to be shotgun wounds outside a house they were scheduled to demolish. This seemingly unprovoked attack is just the latest in a series of violent incidents across the area."

The _Atlas News_ logo faded to reveal the burnt house that Talon's rogue Omnic had warned the murdered crew to stay away from. Tracer's eyes went wide.

"Winston," she said in a low voice. "Winston, I recognize that house."

"Huh? What do you—"

"We need to get to King's Row!" Tracer interrupted. "Look, just fire up the _Orca_ , I'll explain on the way!"

"Well, uh, okay," Winston shrugged as Tracer darted off in a flash of blue light, both her black-and-white pistols at the ready. Winston grabbed some of his own gear, among them a device with two long bars that he affixed to his back and a large cannon he gripped in his hands, and followed suit.


	7. Chapter 7: From Shadows

Chapter 7: From Shadows

One of the advantages of being involved with the higher rungs of Talon's social ladder was that missions requiring some level of discretion—and thus did not allow for the occasionally-chaotic grunts—were within reach.

For Amos, that primarily meant more quality time with a certain sniper.

The two were currently alone on a dropship bound for a nighttime mission in King's Row, England. Widowmaker was busying herself with rifle maintenance as she and Amos sat by the window. Amos tried to make it seem like he was staring out the window, but in reality, more of his attention was focused on Widowmaker herself.

The more time he spent around her, the less…terrifying she seemed. She was certainly much more civil than Reaper, and she had been accepting of his unorthodox situation. Could he really have a chance with her? She was so beautiful and perfect and—

Amos blinked and mentally slapped himself. Then, he made a note to get his head examined for thinking such thoughts about someone who was not only his superior, but was infinitely out of his league. Besides, he stopped believing in hope for a reason.

"Ah, the site of one of my finest kills," Widowmaker smiled fondly as she glanced at the window, the distinctive clock tower of King's Row coming into view. "That day…I felt alive."

"Um…yeah, that's—that's great, boss," Amos said slowly. He wasn't sure whether or not to thank the blue-skinned woman for renewing his fear of her, but once she returned her gaze to her rifle, he took the opportunity to scoot a few inches away from her.

He then added his taste in women to the list of things he needed to get a head examination for.

At that point, the shadows themselves swirled into a humanoid form, and Amos tried to stifle an irritated sigh as Reaper materialized before the two.

"Huh," the dark mercenary growled, cracking his neck as he looked to Widowmaker. "Looks like we're working together again."

"Let's hope it goes better than the time as the Overwatch museum," the sniper replied curtly before standing up to address both of her coworkers. "Today, our mission is as follows. Local underworld forces in King's Row have secured an EMP device, and are currently in the process of transporting it. Talon has an interest in seeing this EMP reach its destination."

Amos frowned. He was tempted to ask why Talon cared about street gangs having an electromagnetic pulse device—or how the aforementioned gangs acquired an EMP to begin with—but he knew that asking questions would do more harm to himself than good.

"Fine," Reaper grunted. "Let's just get the job done. That goes for you, too, grunt," he added with a glare to Amos.

The soldier simply gave Reaper a salute. The grim gunslinger snarled and moved alongside Widowmaker toward the opening dropship door, Amos trailing behind them.

"Shall we?" Widowmaker said as she grappled her way across the rooftops, doing whatever a spider could to reach her destination. Reaper silently crossed his massive shotguns across his chest in an X-shape before fading into a puddle of a dark mist, leaving Amos behind.

"I'll…just, uh, take the safe way down," the grunt said to himself as he slid down an extended rope.

* * *

"Back in my old stomping ground!" Tracer grinned as she bounded out of a large white Overwatch dropship parked on a rooftop, Winston more cautiously following suit. "Ooh, Winston, look at that!"

In a blur of blue light, she zipped to the edge of the rooftop, where a giant golden-colored statue of a robed humanoid Omnic was in sight of all. The Omnic, marked as a monk by his robes and the numerous dots on his forehead, was holding the hand of a human child in one of his own. The other hand balanced a ringed globe that seemed to rotate of its own accord.

"Wow, that's certainly impressive," Winston nodded.

"Nice to know there are still people who appreciate what Mondatta was doing," Tracer smiled sadly. Her normally-exuberant face finally fell. "Just wish I could have done more to help."

"Lena…you did all you could," Winston assured her with a hand on her comparatively tiny shoulder.

"Yeah…you're right, big guy," Tracer's smile returned. "Besides, we all know who's _really_ responsible for what happened that night."

Winston gave her a smile, but it soon faded when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Speaking of whom," he said, pointing in the movement's direction. Tracer followed his finger, and her eyes went wide.

Even against the night sky, the shape of Widowmaker could be made out darting across rooftops, her grappling hook carrying her between them. Tracer gritted her teeth at the sight of her personal nemesis.

"What's she doing back here?!" the time-hopper asked angrily.

"Only one way to find out," Winston grunted. "Let's go."

Tracer nodded and began blinking across the rooftops in pursuit of her spider-themed foe. The large metal beams on Winston's back released a burst of flame from the back ends, propelling the gorilla through the air as he followed his friend.

* * *

The Talon agents continued making their way towards their own objective. Reaper periodically reappeared in the darkness, only to vanish again as a new destination for his unusual teleportation ability presented itself. Widowmaker still swung from her thread, passing by the Mondatta statue in the process. She smirked to herself as she remembered the expression on the British girl's face once the deed had been done, the sheer rage that quickly turned to tears of the purest sorrow.

That brief moment was the icing on the cake.

" _We've got incoming_ ," Reaper radioed in as Widowmaker landed on a roof. " _Four-o'-clock._ "

The sniper glanced in the indicated direction, and glimpsed the unmistakable sight of Winston's hulking frame leaping through the air in the distance. She frowned; where there was one, there was usually the other.

"The reckoning draws near," Reaper said dramatically as he appeared beside Widowmaker. The sniper simply put a finger to her ear.

"Clemens, where are you?" Widowmaker asked into her radio.

" _I'm on my way to the payload, making my way through some alleys down here_ ," the young soldier reported.

"Good," Widowmaker said. "Defend the payload once you reach it. Reaper and I will be dealing with some incoming interference."

" _Roger_ , _boss_ ," Amos replied.

"Time to kill," Reaper said darkly as he teleported away again. Widowmaker smiled hungrily.

" _La veuve tisse sa toile_ ," she said to herself as she grappled to the next rooftop.

* * *

As directed, Amos scurried in and out of King's Row's alleyways. Just being here made him even more uneasy than usual; the alleys were covered in all manner of anti-Omnic graffiti. The few posters he came across that advocated for equality were subverted by more messages of hate plastered nearby.

MACHINES LIVE UNDERGROUND!

BLOOD NOT CIRCUITS!

BUILT ONLY TO SERVE!

Amos shuddered a little. He couldn't imagine what it was like to be an Omnic, especially in this sort of environment. His mind drifted to the young human-turned-Omnic he had helped to escape Talon's headquarters. Where was he now? Hopefully, he was far from this mess.

"All right, fellas, get this thing moving!"

The sounds of brute force caught Amos' attention, and he flattened himself against an alley wall as he glanced in the direction of the source. A group of humans—some with punk-like hairstyles and wild colors, others looking perfectly average—patrolled around a massive battery-like device mounted on a red hovering platform. The platform began to move, taking its escort with it.

 _Guess that's our payload,_ Amos thought, remaining in the shadows. _This is the best part of having a black uniform at night._

Barring the occasional bit of noise from the locals, it was quiet down where he was. Amos absent-mindedly looked up to the roofs.

He couldn't help hoping that Widowmaker was all right.

* * *

After a few moments of more pursuit, Winston landed with a heavy thud on Widowmaker's current rooftop. The sniper was currently looking at something through her scope, but poked her head up at the sound of Winston's impact. With a snarl, the gorilla lumbered forth, hefting along his cannon.

He never noticed the spider-like device attached to a chimney near him until it sprayed a purple cloud of gas from the tube in its main body.

Winston tumbled across the ground, lungs on fire and setting off a coughing fit.

"Aw," Widowmaker cooed smugly as she turned around, "did that sting?"

She took aim with her sniper rifle, her crosshairs focused on Winston's forehead. Then, in a flash of blue light, a pair of orange-tinted goggles appeared in her scope.

"What'cha lookin' at?" Tracer quipped.

Widowmaker frowned as her rifle converted into semi-automatic mode, the intensity of her scowl now at maximum levels.

"An annoyance," the sniper growled in reply as she opened fire.

Tracer dodged the bullet fire by darting about, Widowmaker focusing her fire on the time-hopper's wake. Winston got to his feet with a shake of his head, the effect of the venom mine's poisonous gas finally wearing off. He held his Tesla Cannon at the ready, but a chill in the air followed by swirling darkness behind him gave him pause.

"Death comes," Reaper growled as he aimed his shotguns at Winston's back, forcing the gorilla to whirl around and return fire with bolts of lightning from his cannon.

* * *

It was still quiet down where Amos was.

Thus far, he had stuck to the shadows and alleys as he followed the EMP. Blockades of street cars and protestors had been arranged to give the payload a safe and quick passage to its destination. Aside from the occasional angry throng in favor of Omnic rights, usually coming from a few citizens stranded behind the barricades, the air was silent. But, that was fine with Amos. For him, a silent mission was the best kind of mission.

He did hear gunfire from the roof above, however, and quite a bit of it. Thankfully, he knew that it was something he need not worry himself with. Reaper and Widowmaker could take care of it themselves.

…but what if they couldn't?

With a sigh at his ever-present nagging doubts, Amos gave his head a shake and pressed on. His head needed to be in the game if he was to please his superiors.

The payload steadily made its way through town, weaving through the stone streets with its escort (and Amos) in tow. One of its guards smirked at an upcoming tunnel entrance.

"Home stretch, boys!" the guard called out.

In the alleys, Amos sighed. It was almost over.

"The hell is that up there?!"

Amos looked around frantically until he saw a silver-and-black shape drop from a nearby scaffolding and onto the EMP, bearing a familiar shotgun. The guards held up pipes, guns, whatever was on their person in preparation for a fight. Amos clutched his gun tighter as fear took hold again.

With a primal roar, Talon's Omnic test subject fired quickly and wildly into the crowd of guards, slaying several at a time with the scattering bullets. Amos squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away, already feeling nauseous at the carnage. Within moments, the EMP's escort had been slaughtered, and the Omnic had violently ripped a panel off of the device.

"Right, let's see here," the Omnic muttered as he began fiddling with the inner workings.

 _Oh, of course he wants the EMP,_ Amos thought bitterly. _And Widow's busy, isn't she? Wonderful._

With a sigh, he stepped out of the shadows, gun aimed at the Omnic's back. Amos crept closer, gingerly dodging the corpses littering the street. The Omnic didn't seem to notice him. Amos slightly lowered his gun as he inhaled deeply.

"H-hey!" he stuttered.

In a flash, the Talon Omnic whipped around and aimed his gun at the source of the voice. But, he didn't fire.

"You?" the Omnic balked once he realized who was standing behind him. "What are you doing here?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you!" Amos cried.

"I live here!" the Omnic snapped. "How did you get here?"

"You mean after you threw me out of a plane?"

"Yes! After that!" the Omnic yelled. Amos blinked at the apparent lack of remorse, but heaved a sigh. There was no point in arguing.

"Talon picked me back up, and now I'm supposed to be making sure this EMP gets…wherever it's going," Amos explained.

"You're joking, right?" the Omnic snorted. "How can you not know where this thing's going?"

"I'm a _grunt_ , remember?!" Amos nearly shrieked. "No one tells me anything besides 'here's your job, now do it'!"

The Omnic rolled his head (likely as a substitute for his eyes) and pointed at the tunnel entrance.

"Down there is where all the Omnics in King's Row are forced to live," spat Talon's creation. "That's where this bomb is headed."

"Okay, so…wait a minute," Amos' eyes widened, though it was hidden by his helmet. "EMPs short out electronic devices, and…and, for lack of a better way of saying it, _you're_ an electronic device!"

"Did you really only notice that just now?"

"I know, I know," Amos sighed. "Okay, so…clearly, this thing needs to be stopped—"

"Isn't it your job to protect this trash?" the Omnic folded his arms.

"Well, I mean…it was also my job to bring you back to Talon," Amos shrugged.

The Omnic paused.

"Good point," he said. He then looked back to the EMP. "I think I can shut this thing down, since being plugged into a technician Omnic gave me some expertise in that field. I'll just need you to cover me while I—"

"GET DOWN!" Amos suddenly yelled as he grabbed the Omnic's arm and pulled them both to the ground.

A bola with tasers attached whizzed by where the Omnic was standing seconds earlier and wrapped itself around a lamp post. Amos and his metallic companion got up, finding a familiar pair approaching them.

"I told you they'll notice us whether I yell or not!" Tina snapped up at a rooftop.

"All right, you win," Thunderstrike sighed as he leapt down to the street from the roof. "Shall we get on with the show?"

"Oh, no," Amos paled.

"What?" the Omnic asked.

"Those two shut down a Talon operation in Numbani," Amos explained quickly, feverishly clutching his handgun. "And nearly took my head off along the way."

"Then we'll just take _their_ heads off," the Omnic snarled as he lifted up his shotgun, holding it like a rifle as he reloaded it.

Amos gulped. This was not going to be a good time.

* * *

"DIE! DIE! _DIE_!" Reaper roared in his raspy voice as the shadows whipped around him, his guns firing madly and sending darkness-infused bullets everywhere they could. Winston quickly pulled out a flat device and placed it on the ground.

"Tracer!" he yelled. "Barrier up!"

As he spoke, a massive blue bubble of energy emerged from Winston's device, shielding the ape from Reaper's shots. In a blur of blue light, Tracer darted inside the bubble, guns at the ready as the two waited for Reaper's continuous fire to cease. Widowmaker took this opportunity to find cover behind a chimney and put a finger to her radio.

"Clemens, what's your status?" she asked.

" _Uh, all due respect, you picked a really bad time to—OH SHIT!_ " Amos yelped. His superior could hear the crackle and buzz of electricity even through her communicator link, and a bolt of lightning suddenly blazed into the sky from where the payload was.

"Clemens, report!" Widowmaker growled. "What the hell is going on down there?"

" _Er, listen, I'm going to need to call you back!_ " Amos cried. She could hear a panicked tremor in his voice. " _Little busy not dying!_ "

The line cut off, and Widowmaker frowned.

"Who you talking to, love?" Tracer asked as she suddenly appeared by Widowmaker's side. "Ooh, you got a secret boyfriend?"

The sniper glared viciously as she swung the butt of her rifle in the direction of Tracer's face, only for the British girl to disappear in a flash of blue light. Reaper's storm of bullets had since ended, allowing Widowmaker to poke her head out of cover.

"Reaper!" she called. "Situation on the payload!"

"Great," Reaper groaned as he unveiled his umpteenth pair of shotguns. Before he could do anything, however, a blue light zipped past behind him. It left behind a triangular device that began to quickly beep in time with a pulsating blue light within it.

"Death comes!" Tracer giggled in a mocking Reaper impression as her pulse bomb detonated on his back, turning him from a solid figure into a mass of mist once again.

The time-hopper soon found herself in Widowmaker's sights, prompting her to dart aside as Winston leapt towards the sniper, Tesla cannon firing wildly. Tracer aimed her guns and prepared to join her friend, but darkness swirled into a humanoid shape before her eyes.

"That which doesn't kill you," Reaper growled, pulling out yet another pair of guns, "makes you stronger."

* * *

Back on the street below, the Talon Omnic fired wildly at his new targets. Tina cartwheeled out of the way, breaking through a shop's front window in the process. With a quick shake of his head at his new sidekick's antics, Thunderstrike aimed his hand at the Omnic.

"LIGHTNING BLAST!" he bellowed as another bolt of electricity leapt from his hand. The Omnic literally bent over backwards to dodge before rearing back up.

"Idiot wanker!" he yelled. "You'll get us all killed!"

Thunderstrike paused.

"How so?" he asked.

"By setting off the EMP with your stupid lightning, you dolt!" the Omnic snapped. "Grunt!"

Amos fumbled for his gun and fired several shots in Thunderstrike's direction, but the electric warrior charged his body with energy and bolted straight in the Talon soldier's direction.

"Oh, no," Amos gulped. Both he and the Omnic took aim at Thunderstrike's approaching form, but Tina suddenly pole vaulted back out of the house she had broken into.

"You wouldn't _believe_ the stuff people have in their houses around here!" she cried as she threw someone's trophy swordfish like a javelin. The Omnic was forced to drop his shotgun and catch the swordfish, leaving it inches from piercing his chest.

"…you're kidding, right?" the Omnic snorted as he examined what Tina had thrown.

Thunderstrike stopped moving. Amos took aim at Tina. She prepared another one of her bolas. The Omnic dropped the fish and picked his shotgun back up. But then a blue of movement ripped all their weapons out of their hands.

"All of you STOP THIS!" Thunderstrike roared, standing in the center of the group and dropping everything he had taken onto the space by his feet. The Omnic balled his hand into a fist and swung his arm forth, but the masked hero quickly reversed his attack and threw the machine onto the ground. "Are we quite finished?"

The Omnic groaned as he tried to get up, but Tina put a foot on his chest.

"Stay down, freak show," she spat.

"You're calling _me_ a freak show?!"

"I SAID _ENOUGH_!" Thunderstrike bellowed. He sighed. "Now, then…I'm getting the impression that there's been a misunderstanding here."

"That's rich, coming from you," the Omnic spat. He tried to get up again, but his street-wise captor roughly stomped him back down.

"Let him up, Tina," Thunderstrike commanded.

"Your funeral," Tina rolled her eyes and lifted her foot off, finally letting the Omnic rise to his feet.

"Now…what is this device?" Thunderstrike asked, gesturing to the EMP.

"An EMP," the Omnic answered slowly, warily watching the electric superhero. "Meatbags around here were going to detonate it in the local Omnic town."

"…I see," Thunderstrike said gravely.

"And, if _you_ will get out of the way for ten seconds," the Omnic growled, pointing an accusatory finger at Thunderstrike, "I can find a way to disarm it."

"Then, by all means," Thunderstrike said, sweeping his arm towards the EMP in a manner not unlike allowing someone through a door. The Omnic grunted in disbelief, but nonetheless made his way over to the device and began fiddling with it.

"Whoa, hang on, thunder-ass," Tina blurted. "You actually buy this?"

"He's an Omnic—" Thunderstrike began, but Tina cut him off.

"A what now?"

"Wait, how do you _not_ know what an Omnic is?" Amos spoke up.

"Heard a few things, seen a few, didn't think it was worth looking into," Tina shrugged.

"Then perhaps we'll make time for a field trip," Thunderstrike said with a smile in his voice. "Regardless, this EMP will do the most harm to him and those like him. If he can disarm it, it needs to happen." He turned his mask towards Amos, who quickly began digging through his pouches for an escape. "Relax, friend, there's no more need for hostilities."

Amos slowed down. He pulled a fist out of one pouch and kept it by his side. "Could've fooled me."

"We did get off on the wrong foot, I'll be the first to admit," Thunderstrike chuckled. "I believe we've met before, in Numbani's Doomfist exhibit? What is your name?"

"Um," the Talon grunt quickly looked around, noticing a maze of pathways surrounding him. "Amos."

"A pleasure," Thunderstrike bowed with one hand over his chest. "I am called Thunderstrike. I believe you're familiar with Tina, here, as well."

"Yep, that's me," Tina gave a nod.

Thunderstrike looked over to the Omnic, whose back was still to the group. "And you?"

"The name I was born with doesn't matter anymore," he snorted as he abruptly yanked a glowing object out of the EMP. The blue glow of life the bomb once had faded into darkness. "Bomb's dead, by the way."

He drove his point home by dropping the object onto the pavement, then violently stepping on it.

"Fantastic!" Thunderstrike laughed. He looked around at the group surrounding him. "You know…I embarked on this crusade of justice under the belief that I would be doing it alone. It seems I was mistaken. All of us here—even you, Amos—have done something good tonight. And we could very well do more good for every man, woman, and child on the planet."

"What?!" the Omnic snapped. His forehead lights were blinking again. "What are you playing at, old man?!"

"I…don't understand what you—"

"This piece of junk," the Omnic continued, pointing to the now-disarmed EMP, "was made by humans for the sole purpose of destroying Omnics! And you're telling me that I should stick my neck out to save the same species that wants my people to _suffer_?!"

"No, that's not—there are good humans in the world, friend!" Thunderstrike pleaded.

"BAH!" the Omnic scoffed loudly as he walked down the street into the Omnic town. "Screw all of you! I've got better things to do than listen to this rot!"

"Wait!" Thunderstrike called, but the Omnic broke out into a run and vanished into the night. He sighed sadly. "There's so much anger in him...it makes me wonder what sort of life he's endured."

Tina shrugged, but out of the corner of her eye, noticed a helmeted figure in black trying to tiptoe out of sight, one of his hands still in a fist. She quickly put her staff in front of him.

"The hell you think you're off to?" Tina growled at Amos.

"Uh…bathroom break?" he said with a nervous laugh. Tina scowled at him as Thunderstrike approached again. "Listen, I really need to be going—I mean, my boss is probably wondering what happened to the thing I was supposed to be guarding—"

"You're not like your comrades, are you?" Thunderstrike asked. "Their desire is to destroy and control. But you…you're more afraid of the world than it is of you. You haven't hurt a soul since we met; in fact, you've gone out of your way to help others and save lives."

He offered Amos his hand.

"You don't have to go back to those people you work for," Thunderstrike continued. "We can help you, if you'll give us the chance."

Amos looked at him for a moment. His fist tightened.

"I've heard that before," he said, the fear in his voice replaced by bitterness. He opened his fist enough to reveal a slightly larger variant of his black spheres, and in a swift movement, he threw it to the ground, causing it to explode into a cloud of thick black smoke.

"Amos!" Thunderstrike called. The sound of rapid footsteps fading into the night reached his ears. "Wait!"

But, when the smokescreen cleared, Amos was gone.

"As I feared," Thunderstrike sighed. "The people of this world know only anger and fear…they need something to give them hope again."

"You think that's gonna be you?" Tina asked.

"Well…I can certainly try," Thunderstrike smiled. "Come. I believe I promised you a field trip."

* * *

With her grappling hook in place, Widowmaker repelled off the roof, firing her rifle at the pursuing Winston as she went. The gorilla bore down on her, but the sniper quickly kicked herself off of him and pulled herself back up to the roof. Winston fell to the street below, but Widowmaker knew he would be back in mere moments. She activated her rifle's scope and took aim at the ape below.

" _Uh...boss?_ " Amos radioed in. " _Bad news. Payload's dead._ "

Widowmaker's brow furrowed at both the news and her subordinate's timing. She put her scope down for a moment.

"What do you mean?" the sniper asked. Her golden eyes remained fixed on Winston as the ape prepared to leap up. "What happened?"

" _Well, uh, first I got jumped by that Omnic Talon was messing around with,_ " Amos explained nervously, " _then our old friends from Numbani showed up, and—_ "

"Ugh, never mind," Widowmaker huffed. "Just get back to the ship. We're done here."

"… _roger, boss,_ " Amos whimpered. The line cut off.

With a roll of her eyes at her subordinate's quirks, Widowmaker prepared another one of her venom mines as she glanced back to Reaper, who was busily riddling the landscape with bullets in his efforts to eliminate Tracer.

"Mission failed!" she called. "Let's go!"

Reaper gave an irritated grunt as he faded into darkness once more, vanishing from Tracer's sight. Winston's jump pack propelled him back to the roof, leaving Widowmaker cornered between the two of them.

"Hmm," Widowmaker smirked with a glance at Tracer. "Another time, _chérie._ "

"Oh, no, you don't!" Tracer yelled, aiming her guns just as Widowmaker dropped her venom mine. Both Overwatch agents covered their mouths and nostrils as the poison gas leaked into the air, allowing Widowmaker to grapple to another roof and away from the fight. By the time Tracer blinked up to where the spider-themed sniper had gone, the Talon agent was no longer there.

"Ugh! Man, she really burns me!" Tracer growled.

"Tracer!" Winston called. "They mentioned a payload!"

"Oh, right!" the time-hopper gasped. Winston leapt into the air again as Tracer whizzed down a flight of steps, leading the two to reach the street below in record time. "Cheers, loves, the cavalry's—"

No one was there.

The disarmed EMP remained in place, halfway torn apart by the Talon Omnic's manipulations. The corpses of the EMP's escort still littered the ground. The smoke from Amos' bomb had long since cleared out, as had Thunderstrike and Tina.

"Someone seems to have gotten here before us," Winston observed, pushing up his glasses.

"Yeah, but who'd leave a mess like this behind?" Tracer asked, scratching her head.

"We may have to ask around, find some witnesses," Winston suggested.

"Good idea, love," Tracer smiled. Investigating the ruined house from the news could wait; they needed answers first.

* * *

The Meridian was normally a brightly-lit theater in King's Row, complete with a full stage in its upper levels. Tonight, however, it was as dark as the sky. No one was there.

No one but the Talon Omnic.

He stood before a large framed photograph flanked by candles, and picked up the portrait as gently as his shaking hands would allow. He held it for a moment, but with a sigh, he put it back down and knelt before Omnic within the frame.

"I'm sorry, Mondatta, I just—I can't," the Omnic said quietly. "I know you believed in peace. I know you thought humans and Omnics could co-exist. I want to believe what you believed. But…I can't. I just can't."

The dots on his head flickered a bit.

"The humans here were going to wipe everyone out," the Omnic continued, his sorrowful voice taking on a harder edge. "There's no reasoning with them anymore. They're just happy as clams when they're stepping on Omnic rights."

His forehead lights flickered a little more. He stood up.

"I can only see one way to a peaceful world," he said bitterly. "And that's if the world has no more humans in it."


	8. Chapter 8: Tranquility

**This chapter brought to you by the modifications to Symmetra's abilities on the PTR...because otherwise it would be very hard to have her do something significant on her own.**

Chapter 8: Tranquility

Satya Vaswani—dubbed "Symmetra" during her more clandestine missions—believed with all her heart that Vishkar Corporation would bring order, cleanliness, and peace to the world.

This only made her shock at finding one of Vishkar's facilities in ruins all the more devastating.

Bloodied bodies were scattered across the floor. The walls bore numerous holes, with one particularly colossal one in place of the front doors seeming to be where the intruders had entered from. The damage done here was immense, and the cost virtually incalculable.

Symmetra narrowed her eyes; this was far from a street rat's work. This was something significantly worse. And it was her job to stop such madness from running rampant.

Finding the culprits was simple enough, given the amount of carnage left in their wake. Her three-pronged gun, the photon projector Vishkar had bestowed upon her, hummed as the energy within was focused.

" _The intruders have entered the testing lab,_ " her handler spoke into her ear through her pointed visor's communication system. " _You know what to do._ "

Symmetra made her way to her destination, finding it marked for her by the doors having been blown off their hinges. More bodies were laid out for her, like a grotesque red carpet. The center of the room, where Vishkar's latest project was being tested, was surrounded by the only three standing bodies in the room.

"Intruders detected," Symmetra stated flatly. The glow of her weapon brightened.

Two of the figures, each with large and blocky bodies, turned to face her. The third one, a more human-shaped character, was nestled behind them and obscured from Symmetra's view. Vishkar's agent raised an eyebrow at the large, blocky figures. She recognized them as Omnics, specifically the siege automaton unit type nicknamed "Bastions" for simplicity. But no Bastion unit she had seen bore a black coloration with blue highlights.

"I know not who you are," Symmetra began, aiming her gun, "but you have destroyed Vishkar property and slain Vishkar workers. Submit."

The two Bastions looked at their apparent leader, who simply groaned and waved a hand. Before him was Vishkar's project: a pair of small spheres that levitated into the air, each wielding a small blue mechanized eye.

"Those aerial drones are Vishkar property, you will not—" Symmetra was cut off when the drones' eyes suddenly turned from blue to red. Her eyes bulged. "H-how did you override the control cod—"

The drones began firing before she could finish, releasing two beams of red energy in her direction. Symmetra gracefully flipped out of the way, heading back down the hall as the beams chased her out the door.

"I've got better things to do than play with Vishkar's attack dog," the lead figure grumbled to the two Bastions. He pointed at the doorway. "Sic!"

The Bastions obeyed, readying the guns that served as their right hands. Both of the soldier Omnics silently marched down the hall in pursuit of Symmetra, firing on her as they went. Vishkar's operative continued to retreat, throwing another of Vishkar's snow-white spherical devices into the air behind her. This new device projected a wide barrier of light as it hovered down the hallway, blocking the Bastions' fire.

Hesitating for only a second, just long enough to analyze the situation, both Bastions folded and repositioned their bodies until each resembled a turret with a Gatling gun mounted on the front. The Gatling guns spewed a hail of bullets into Symmetra's floating barrier, bombarding it with fire while its owner spent her time darting back and forth between the walls and even reaching up to the ceiling.

In moments, Symmetra's shield had shattered, but Satya herself was nowhere in sight. The Bastions converted back into their humanoid modes, each of their single yellow eyes looking about in an attempt to locate their target. One of them began to advance down the hall, but soon stopped when it heard a low whir.

"The balance shifts in my favor," Symmetra announced as she stepped around the corner, an orb of energy growing within her gun's prongs.

As if on cue, more white spheres emerged from the walls, each one bearing an eye similar to the ones on the stolen aerial drones. A beam of energy burst from each eye, tearing the closest Bastion apart. The Bastion that had remained behind was out of the sentry turrets' range, allowing it to neutralize the threat by shooting down each of them down. This, however, proved to be the Omnic's undoing when the sphere Symmetra had been charging—now twice the size of a human skull—barreled down the hall and through the Bastion's torso.

The destroyed machine fell to the ground, giving Symmetra the freedom to step over it and back into the lab. Unfortunately, the Bastions' leader had vanished. The last reminder of his presence was a new hole, this one burned open with what Symmetra assumed was the stolen drones' lasers.

She frowned. Someone had great power at their fingertips, and was using it unwisely.

* * *

"You said 'let's hike our way up'. You said 'it'll be fun'," Tina growled through chattering teeth, her companion's brown coat apparently doing nothing to help her. "You frigging _lied_ to me!"

Gunnar Raske, hefting along his trademark suitcase as he stepped through snow, could only chuckle. A week had passed since the incident in King's Row, giving Gunnar and Tina time to find their way to a snowy mountain in Nepal. Tina's ignorance of the Omnic Crisis prompted him to bring her to a widely-known area of Omnic activity.

"Not enjoying yourself?" Gunnar asked his companion, trying to hide his smirk.

"What was your first clue?!" Tina barked, hugging herself tightly. "I've got snow in places I didn't even know existed!"

"Thank you for sharing that," Gunnar sighed. "We're almost there, you'll be able to warm up when we arrive."

"You said that an hour ago!" Tina snapped.

"And it still holds true," Gunnar replied. "Also, it may be a good idea to hold in your more…aggressive tendencies around our Omnic hosts."

"Yeah, yeah," Tina rolled her eyes. "Let me make sure I've got this straight. Thirty years ago, some high-and-mighty company makes a bunch of robots that go crazy and kill lots of people, which made people put together Overwatch to blow them up? And now the robots that didn't go crazy are either living with people or making their own cult?"

"That's…effectively the short version, yes," Gunnar shrugged. "I don't recommend referring to the Shambali movement as a 'cult', however."

"I'll call it how I see it," Tina shrugged. "Are we there yet?"

"Not yet," Gunnar replied. He glanced upward, and narrowed his eyes. "Tina?"

"What do you want _now_?!" Tina snapped. Gunnar pointed upward, and Tina followed his gaze to find a black dropship passing overhead. She tilted her head to the side. "That thing looks familiar."

"It carried those soldiers in black we met in Numbani," Gunnar pointed out, placing his suitcase on the ground and opening it. The uniform of Thunderstrike was folded neatly within. "I suspect we'll be warming up sooner than we thought."

* * *

 _This is why I hate this job,_ Amos thought. His grip on his gun was tighter than ever.

The dropship bound for the Shambali monastery contained a battalion of Talon soldiers, Amos included. As usual, the other grunts gave him a wide berth, though that did little to help matters. The very fact that Widowmaker would be absent for this mission was enough of a disappointment; the identity of her replacement as his superior was only salt in the wound.

"Remember," Reaper growled as he stalked by each grunt, "nothing gets out in one piece."

He stopped to glare at Amos.

"Am I making myself clear?" the mercenary snarled.

Amos simply gave him a salute. The eyeless sockets of Reaper's mask stared down at him, seemingly trying to suck out his very life.

"Stay out of my way, grunt," the shadowy agent rasped.

"Oh, trust me, sir, I will be staying as far away from you as possible," Amos assured him.

Reaper harrumphed as he turned his bone-covered back on Amos and drew out his guns, watching the dropship door open. A bitter cold flowed in alongside a dusting of snow, and Amos felt the chill on every inch of his bare forearms. Reaper's gaze then turned to the Talon grunts as their ropes carried them to the brick walkway below, Amos lagging near the back of the crowd. The timid soldier scanned his surroundings as the battalion charged forth.

Giant statues of Omnic monks, each with different facial features and poses but all clad in the same sort of robes, lined the path into the colossal building before them. The doorway the grunts passed through bore intricate carvings and runes, but only Amos paid the scenery any heed. This team had a mission to complete.

A few Omnic monks were conversing in the entryway. They had enough time to only glance at their guests.

Amos swallowed hard as the lead soldiers whipped out their rifles and opened fire. His heart thumped against his rib cage, mimicking his own desire to escape the carnage before him. Sparks and oil spilled out of the Omnics' bodies as bullets shredded them. He squeezed his eyes shut and bared his teeth, turning his head away in a desperate attempt to block out the slaughter.

"Quit squirming, rookie," Reaper's gravelly voice rasped in his ear. Amos jumped six feet in the air as the hooded mercenary appeared behind him. "Tin cans come a dime a dozen."

Reaper gave a few hand signals, and the crowd of grunts split into two. Each group followed two separate pathways, killing as many monks as they could find. Amos continued to drag his feet with his group, unwilling to add even a single note to the chorus of gunfire. A groan beside him made him stop; a wounded Omnic had huddled in a corner, having been left for dead by the rest of the soldiers.

"Clemens, what are you waiting for?" one of Amos' comrades called. "You're our medic!"

"This one's still alive!" Amos shot back. "I'll be there in a sec!"

The remaining grunts pressed on, and after a quick moment to look around for any watchers (particularly ones in black hooded trenchcoats), Amos knelt down to the Omnic and held out one of his unique bandages.

"Okay. Okay, uh…I know you won't trust me, but here," Amos said in a low voice, placing the wrap on the Omnic's wounds. "I made these a long time ago. They're like a chemical version of biotic technology—you know what that does, right? Either way, this thing I have here? It'll heal your wounds over time and harden into a temporary extra layer of skin. Kind of like a super band-aid, except—you know—only a little super."

The Omnic looked down at the bandage and, true to this grunt's word, the bullet wounds seemed to mend of their own accord once covered in the bandages' chemicals. The monk's strength returned much quicker than he had anticipated.

"Okay, you should be all right now," Amos continued as he helped the Omnic to his feet. "Now, I need you to listen carefully. Take as many friends as you can, and _run_. Get far away for a few hours, then you can come back. This…operation shouldn't take that long."

"What about you?" the Omnic asked. "I owe you my life."

"Worry about yourself, just go! Go! _Go_!" Amos hissed, grabbing the Omnic monk's shoulders and literally pushing him towards the exit. Hearing the urgency in his savior's voice, the monk gave a quick bow of his head before fleeing. Amos heaved a sigh. "As for me…I've still got a nightmare to wade through."

Amos ran to catch up with his battalion, but the Omnic monk hurried in the opposite direction. Few of his fellows had been spared from Talon's purge, but he gathered the ones he could find and hustled them out of the sanctuary. The small group of escaped monks quickly began making their way down the mountain, knowing that the villagers below would take them in.

"Wait! Please, wait a moment!"

The bandaged monk stopped, turning to find Thunderstrike and Tina rushing to approach him.

"Are you all right?" the superhero asked. "What happened?"

"Soldiers in black have burst into our temple, killing my brothers and sisters indiscriminately!" the monk replied. "Someone needs to stop them!"

"How'd you get out?" Tina asked with a raised eyebrow.

"One of their number was more compassionate," the monk explained. "He healed my wounds and helped me escape. He told me to take whoever I could and flee, and that is what I must do."

With a quick bow, the monk rejoined his fellows as they continued their flight. Tina and Thunderstrike looked to one another.

"Tina?" the former drama teacher said, clenching his fist. "It's showtime."

* * *

Back inside the Shambali sanctum, the massacre continued. While Amos' saving of one monk allowed for several others to be saved, many others were not so fortunate. Metal bodies littered the floor, oil and inner workings spilling out and robes tattered by bullets. Amos carefully tried to spirit away the occasional survivor, doing his best to avoid his coworkers' eyes while doing so; it would do these monks no good if he died, too.

After what felt like an eternity's worth of murders, Reaper's Talon battalion approached the innermost area of the sanctum. A single platform, built over a cavernous hole in the floor, played host to a circle of Omnics. Two short staircases led to this platform, and both were shortly covered by Talon grunts. The monks took one another's hands in a circle of solidarity once they beheld the guns trained on them. Amos tried to make it look like he was also aiming at the Omnics, but his gun was pointed more towards the empty center of their circle.

"On my mark," Reaper growled, raising one clawed hand. Amos gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. He had tried to save as many as he could without being caught, and he knew he couldn't save all of them. But, even knowing this, every death he witnessed ripped out a chunk of his soul.

"LIGHTNING BLAST!"

Before Reaper could give the signal to fire, a bolt of lightning whizzed in his direction, forcing him to convert to mist form to evade. Reaper's mist quickly dispersed as Thunderstrike charged into the squad of Talon grunts on one staircase, punching and kicking his way through with amazing speed. On the opposite staircase, Tina swooped in and swept the grunts aside with her staff, knocking a few into the void below in the process.

 _Oh, no,_ Amos thought, the color in his face draining as his heart rate accelerated. _Not them again._

He hurriedly stumbled his way down to the circle. The Omnics made no move against him, nor did they try to flee. They simply awaited their fate.

"You there!" Thunderstrike called down. Amos' head shrank into his shoulders as he slowly turned around. "Your timid gait looks familiar. Have we, perchance, met in King's Row? And perhaps, Numbani, as well?"

"…maybe?" Amos whimpered. Darkness began to swirl behind the electric warrior, prompting Amos to point a finger at it. "LOOK, A DISTRACTION!"

"He's not lying!" Tina called.

Thunderstrike turned to find himself mask-to-mask with a regenerated Reaper. The mercenary cracked his neck.

"What are _you_ supposed to be?" Reaper snorted, looking up and down Thunderstrike's outfit.

"I was about to ask you the same question," the superhero replied, readying his fists. The second Reaper pulled out his guns, Thunderstrike's suit charged with electricity, and the warrior leapt into the air and somersaulted over his shadowy foe. Reaper turned and blocked Thunderstrike's punches, and with his superior's back turned, Amos looked over to the Omnic monks.

"You guys have a chance to get out of here, you should really take it!" Amos hissed out of the corner of his mouth as he ran past. The monks finally let go of each other's hands and began to flee, Amos brushing past Tina and making his way over to his fellow soldiers. "Excuse me, coming through!"

He pulled out his medical wraps and began to apply first-aid to the half-conscious Talon grunts. Tina only tilted her head.

"The hell you helping them for?" she asked.

"Excuse me for wanting to do the only part of my job I'm actually good at," Amos shot back. "Don't you have better things to do?"

"I'm keeping an eye on you and your pals while Captain Electro-face deals with your boss," Tina replied. "So, what's your deal? Thunder-butt's convinced you're not like your buddies."

Amos was quite thankful the grunts he was currently aiding were unconscious. "It's really not a good idea to talk about me while your own buddy is—"

"He's not my buddy," Tina interrupted with a scowl. "He takes me to cool places, I help him beat people up. That's it."

"Well, whatever works for you," Amos shrugged as he hefted his unconscious comrades behind cover, one grunt at a time. "I'm just going to do the job I'm stuck with."

By this point, Reaper now had Thunderstrike at a distance, firing away with his dual shotguns while the electric warrior leapt about the sanctum. Noticing an inability to keep up with Thunderstrike's superior agility, Reaper dropped his guns and pulled out another pair. The shadows began to swirl around him.

"Oh, no," Amos' eyes went wide. He put a finger to his radio. "Everyone, _get out_! DEATH BLOSSOM INCOMING!"

The grunts that were still conscious panicked, picking up whatever fellows they could and ducking behind cover. Reaper lifted his guns and wrapped his fingers around the triggers.

"You gonna explain what—"

"JUST GET TO COVER!" Amos cut Tina off, grabbing her arm and yanking her behind a wall.

Reaper began to spin in time with the tornado of darkness around him, firing his guns in every direction. Bullets sprayed everywhere, shattering windows and decimating pottery. Thunderstrike felt his body being pushed to its limits as he sped around the sanctum, bullets ricocheting off the walls next to him.

"Holy _shit_!" Tina balked as bullets glanced off the wall she and Amos hid behind. "Who the hell is this guy?!"

"His name's Reaper!" Amos called over the roar of gunfire. "International mercenary and professional nutjob!"

"Nutjob is right!" Tina cried. "Your other boss wasn't this much of a prick!"

"Oh, tell me about it!"

On the edges of the storm of bullets and darkness, a few Talon grunts had been left behind in the scramble to find safety. They were now riddled with holes.

Thunderstrike gasped when he saw the bodies. He charged his body with lightning once more and leapt into the air. "THUNDEERRRRR!"

Reaper stopped shooting long enough to look up and see Thunderstrike's trademark electrically-powered kick barreling towards him.

"STRRRIIIIIIKKKKKKEEEEEEE!"

The mercenary vanished into mist again, and the impact from Thunderstrike's signature technique sent a shockwave of lightning through the floor. The very sanctum shook, but Reaper was nowhere to be found.

"Show yourself, you monster!" Thunderstrike roared, fists clenched. "Only a madman would slaughter his own men—and likely countless others—just to get what he wants!"

Only a dark chuckle came in reply. Reaper rematerialized behind Thunderstrike and took aim, but stopped when he noticed one of Tina's taser bolas hurtling towards him. He quickly shot it out of the air, but the sound of his gun prompted Thunderstrike to spin a roundhouse kick into the dark mercenary.

"Tina! It's too dangerous here!" Thunderstrike called as Reaper faded into shadows again.

"I want a piece of this asshole!" Tina roared as she tried to rush in, Amos struggling to hold her back.

"Go for our second objective!" Thunderstrike ordered. "I'll hold off this maniac!"

"Ugh, fine," Tina snorted. She roughly grabbed Amos' arm. "You're coming with me, got it?!"

"Uh, what?!" Amos sputtered, but Tina quickly dragged him off. "What are you doing?! I need to help the—"

"Shut up and come on!" Tina barked. She led him out into the nearest entryway and threw him against a wall, pinning him there with her staff. "Okay, Thunder-dick wants me to give you some sappy speech about how we want to help you. That's not my thing."

"Yeah, I noticed," Amos replied flatly. Tina's response was to shove her staff closer to his throat. "Gah! Sorry!"

"Just shut up and listen," Tina grunted. "I don't know who you are, who your people are, or what you're trying to do, and I don't give a shit. But I can tell an odd one out when I see one. Trust me, I've been there."

Amos blinked. "…really?"

"I got put in a school once," Tina said. "One of those private places that look more like prisons. Sure as hell felt like one, since you could only go to this place at that time, you needed an ID for shit that makes no sense to need an ID card for, and they pump all these things into your head that are supposed to make you think their way of doing things is the only way. There was nobody there like me, and I hated it."

She sighed, finally pulling back her staff and allowing Amos to breathe.

"Well, I've said what I want to say, and you'll probably want to bail before your new boss decides to plug you full of holes," Tina said. "Oh, and Electric Blue Douche wanted me to give you something."

"Uh, do you even know his real name, or—"

"I'm not treating him like my friend if he isn't," Tina snorted as she dug through her pocket. She handed Amos a slip of paper with a number scribbled on it. "He said to call that frequency if you ever need help."

Amos took the slip and stared at it for a moment before pocketing it. "I mean…it's definitely an option, but—"

"Yeah, whatever," Tina interrupted as she turned to head back inside the sanctum. "I should go kick Skull-boy out a window. You do whatever you do."

She headed back inside, leaving Amos alone by the doorway out. He looked to the sky outside, but sighed and turned to follow Tina inside. Reaper would most likely expect him to—

" _We got what we came for!_ " Reaper snapped over the radio. The crackle and buzz of electricity could be heard in the background, as well. " _We're pulling out!_ "

 _Sounds good to me,_ Amos thought with a shrug. _Let me see who else needs helping back to the ship._

* * *

"You're not going anywhere!" Thunderstrike roared. "LIGHTNING BLAST!"

Reaper burst into mist again, avoiding the lightning released from Thunderstrike's hand. This time, however, the mercenary did not reform himself. By this time, the remaining grunts had regained consciousness, and were in the process of retreating. Amos was lagging behind once more, though this time it was because he was carrying another grunt on his shoulders.

"You all right?" Tina asked Thunderstrike as she returned. "Where's the edge-lord?"

"Gone," Thunderstrike sighed. "Did Amos get—"

"Yeah, I gave it to him," Tina snapped. "I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were," Thunderstrike said calmly. He noticed Amos glance at them as they left, and sent the Talon soldier a salute. Amos managed a small, reluctant wave in return before leaving.

"So, what do you see in the guy, anyway?" Tina asked. "Yeah, he's too much of a wimp to be hanging with those guys, but that's about all I can see."

"What I see in him," Thunderstrike began with a slight smile, "is a heart of gold struggling to shine in the darkness around him. But I believe that heart has been buried by the layers of stone a cynical world has placed upon it."

He looked around, noticing the Omnic monks returning. His smile grew.

"There are heroes everywhere in the world, even in the places you would never expect," Thunderstrike said. "You just need to keep your eyes open for them. And if you reach out to them…they may reach back."

* * *

 **Quick trivia: the Bastion units appearing in this chapter are meant to resemble the BlizzCon skin (just without the Blizzard logo). As for the main Bastion from the feels-heavy "Last Bastion" short, he may or may not appear in this story. If this does get sequels, the true Bastion should appear in one of those at some point.**


	9. Chapter 9: The Mad Omnic

**Hope everyone's enjoying the new Winter Wonderland event. Putting this up a little earlier than I usually shoot for (partly because it's a little shorter but sets events in motion for a couple longer ones), so I hope you enjoy this as well.**

 **Also...I spoke too soon in the last chapter. I found a way to work in the primary Bastion (albeit briefly).**

Chapter 9: The Mad Omnic

"Um, boss?" Amos nervously raised his hand. "All due respect, uh…are you sure about this?"

Before him stood Widowmaker, her arms folded as her golden eyes studied him. Surrounding him was Talon's mess hall, bustling with soldiers getting their food. The few days since the mission to Nepal's Omnic monk sanctuary had been business as usual, but today brought news that things were going to change.

"I am quite positive, Clemens," Widowmaker replied, her usual scowl present. "If I am going to get you into a position where you can do your best work, I need to see where your strengths lie. You've been doing well on missions where you work with others. Now, I need to see how you work on your own."

"I mean…wasn't King's Row enough of an indicator?" Amos asked.

"One instance does not give me enough information," Widowmaker answered flatly. "Now, your assignment will be to infiltrate a Helix Security International facility in Egypt…mainly because Talon's 'hacker' is having difficulty breaking through their firewalls," she added with a roll of her eyes. "You'll get the full details when the time comes. For now, dismissed."

With that, she went to get her food, passing by a table of grunts in the process.

"Hey, blue bae!" one of them called. "Saw you talking to Clem—"

One sickening cracking noise later, and the grunt's body fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, his head twisted at an odd angle. Widowmaker huffed.

"Someone clean this up," she sighed as she went on her way. A pair of grunts shrugged and lifted their comrade's body.

"Poor Cedric," one of them said. "We knew ye well."

"Well enough to know that he couldn't keep his mouth shut when he should've," the other added with a snort.

Amos swallowed hard. His taste in women truly was terrible.

* * *

Eichenwalde, Germany had been abandoned for decades. The German Crusader forces had pushed back an Omnic offensive during the Crisis, but at the cost of many soldiers' lives. Since then, the town had fallen to time, becoming overgrown with plant life from the nearby Black Forest.

But, not all life in Eichenwalde was forest. A small yellow bird flapped about, carrying a tiny twig in its stubby beak. The bird found a place to land on the finger of a familiar type of blocky-bodied Omnic. Unlike most Bastions, however, this one was covered in moss and flowers, with its single blue eye eagerly glancing about. Everything it saw fascinated it to no end.

Then a shadow fell over the forest, like the sun itself was eclipsed. The moss-covered Bastion looked skyward. Passing over the forest was a colossal airship, heavily armored and painted jet black. The Bastion's hand fell limply to its side, its avian companion fluttering up to the machine's head. Despite its child-like mentality, the Bastion could tell one thing.

Something terrible was about to happen.

* * *

The airship advanced upon Eichenwalde Castle, a series of openings appearing in the ship's bottom surface. A black-and-blue object dropped out of each one, most crashing through the castle roof and landing directly in the interior. The few that landed outside quickly converted into the same black-and-blue Bastions from the Vishkar raid, each standing beside the castle's doors and seemingly awaiting further instructions.

The rest of the Bastions, the ones already inside the castle, marched forth with weapons drawn. They traveled side-by-side, a wall of cold metal pushing its way into the heart of the fortress. Each singular eye, a yellow contrasting the pale blue of the Black Forest Bastion, was focused on the objective. Sitting on the throne was a bulky suit of mossy, rusted armor, a spike-covered hammer lying beside it and a gladiatorial-looking helmet with a small pair of eagle wings sprouting from the top.

Standing between the wall of Bastions and this suit of armor was another one, this one a gunmetal grey and bearing a lion's face on the left wrist. Two aged eyes glared out from beneath a spike-crowned helmet, challenging the evil before them. The knight gripped his giant, long-handled hammer tightly.

"This is the home of my master, Balderich von Adler," the knight declared. "He was born here! And…he died here."

The knight swung his hammer at the air before him, releasing a burst of fire that ripped apart a piece of the Bastion wall.

"I swear, by my name of Reinhardt Wilhelm, you will not defile my master's legacy!" the knight roared.

"Is that so?"

Reinhardt looked past the Bastions to find a humanoid figure, flanked by the stolen Vishkar drones, bringing up the rear alongside another pair of black-and-blue Bastions. The figure was a humanoid Omnic, but colored in black-and-silver with red circles on his forehead. In his hands was something that had once been a large black-and-grey shotgun, but now resembled a rifle with a hooked bayonet.

"You say you're not going to let me do what I want with your master's armor," snorted the Talon Omnic. "I say that I'm not going to let one meatbag in a Sunday suit get in my way."

He threw out his hand.

"Tear him apart!" the Talon Omnic cried.

The two Bastions on the farthest ends of the wall converted into turret mode and opened fire. Reinhardt positioned the lion face on his wrist in front of him, and a wide rectangular field of blue light erupted from the lion's mane. The Crusader pushed forward, his barrier absorbing the constant bullet fire even as the remaining Bastions aimed their gun-hands and contributed their own bullets.

" _Reinhardt!_ " a woman's voice came over the knight's communicator. " _Your barrier's going to give out!_ "

Indeed, cracks began to spread throughout Reinhardt's shield, but the knight was undaunted. A pair of rocket engines on his back suddenly ignited, launching him forth. Bullets dented and glanced off his armor as Reinhardt crashed through the Bastion wall, sending several of them flying into the castle's stone walls. The Talon Omnic rolled aside, firing his new rifle at his armored foe, but Reinhardt sent another fireball his way and forced him to dodge once more.

" _Sentry Bastions are still there!_ " the woman's voice warned Reinhardt.

Two massive Gatling guns were quickly trained on the knight, but one fireball after another struck them down. Reinhardt's armor was becoming progressively more battered and dented, but the determined Crusader only raised his weapon as high as he could.

"Hammer DOWN!" Reinhardt roared, slamming his hammer into the floor with enough force to crack the ground beneath him. The Bastions before him tumbled to the ground, giving Reinhardt time to smash them to bits with several hammer swings.

Before the Crusader could progress further, however, a pair of crimson laser beams struck his back. The Talon Omnic pointed his finger forth, prompting his Vishkar drones to soar above Reinhardt. They stopped directly above the knight, pointing their eyes downward as they began to circle him. New beams of red light emerged from the drones' eyes, but this time the light created a cylindrical barrier around Reinhardt's body.

"Caged like the animal you are," the Talon Omnic sneered. He thrust his fist forward, thumb out to the side. He paused.

Then he gave the thumbs-down sign.

The remaining Bastion units opened fire with renewed force, their shots phasing through the cylinder and into Reinhardt's armor. Without enough room to project his barrier and shield himself, Reinhardt could only punch and hammer the barrier of light with as much strength as he could, but his efforts were in vain.

" _Reinhardt, no!_ " the woman yelled.

"Brigitte!" Reinhardt grunted as the bullets began to penetrate his armor. "Get to safety, my friend!"

Reinhardt's armor began to come off in chunks. Bullets ripped through the metal, tearing it off of his body. Grunts and roars of pain burst from the once-steadfast warrior's mouth.

But then the Talon Omnic held up a hand. The Bastions stopped firing.

"You're not dead yet," Talon's rogue creation observed. "I think I want you alive for a little longer."

He approached the cylinder of light containing Reinhardt, staring the knight in the eye.

"You're going to deliver a message for me."

* * *

"Anything?" Tracer asked.

"Unfortunately, no," Winston shook his head. "Athena?"

" _I am also afraid not,_ " a synthesized female voice replied from Winston's computer.

Tracer frowned. She began pacing back and forth.

"Lena, we'll find him," Winston assured her.

"I know we will, it's just—I'm really worried about him," Tracer sighed. "I haven't seen him since the night Mondatta was killed. And with what's been going on at his house—"

A loud thump outside caught the two's attention. With a quick look to one another, Tracer and Winston carefully made their way to the Watchpoint's front doors, weapons at the ready. When the doors slid open, Tracer's jaw dropped while Winston let out a gasp.

Reinhardt was there, bleeding heavily and with portions of his armor ripped off. Above them was the ship that invaded Eichenwalde, with the Talon Omnic silently stepping back inside as the doors closed. The thrusters engaged and carried the ship away, but Tracer and Winston could only glare after it. They had more pressing concerns.

"Reinhardt!" Tracer cried, dropping her pistols and attempting to lift her old friend up despite his significantly larger size. Winston came to aid her, having noticeably more success in providing aid.

"My friends," Reinhardt said weakly, mustering a smile. "It's good to see you after all these years."

"Sir, what happened to you?" Winston asked.

"That ship…and the mad Omnic in charge of it," Reinhardt grunted.

"Mad Omnic?" Winston repeated. "What do you mean?"

"He wasn't a simple rogue…like the ones from the war," Reinhardt answered. "He was more human…more sinister. He ransacked Eichenwalde…took the plans for Crusader armor…and took my master's helmet as a souvenir. He dropped me here as a message…that my fate will be the fate of those who stand against him."

"Oh-ho, we'll see about that!" Tracer narrowed her eyes.

"That's the spirit!" Reinhardt grinned. "Let me at that—ugh!"

The Crusader tried to stand, but found himself falling to one knee.

"Reinhardt, sir, you need to get to a hospital," Winston advised. "We're not equipped to treat you here, and you're too injured to come with us."

"Bah!" Reinhardt scoffed, though it came out as more of a cough. "I'm fit as a fiddle!"

Winston only shook his head. "Lena, I'll take Reinhardt. Go tell Athena to look for unusual airship activity. There are only so many places a ship of that size could hide."


	10. Chapter 10: Industrial Revolution

Chapter 10: Industrial Revolution

Amos took a deep breath as he held his helmet in his hands. The day had come. It was time for the Helix Security mission. His first solo mission.

 _Okay…okay, I can do this,_ he thought as he donned his helmet, pausing to look over a rather large flash drive in his hands. _Just need to get in, stick this thing in an executive computer, and get out. Simple. Except for the security. And the armored bird suits Helix's people tend to wear. And the rocket launchers said bird suits are armed with._

He shook his head.

 _No use dwelling on it, I guess,_ he thought. The dropship carrying him opened its door and a single rope dangled down into the night. _Time to roll._

Amos slid down the rope and touched down in a sandy alley between the buildings. With its passenger successfully departed, the dropship left. Amos sighed; he was now alone. No one would bail him out if he made a costly mistake. Business as usual, he supposed.

He poked his head out of the alley and quickly looked around. The streets were empty, with all the citizens of Giza, Egypt having gone home. With an accepting shrug, Amos darted from one alley to another, steadily making his way towards Helix's primary building. The corporate skyscraper reached for the night sky, the glass windows covering the front—even the door—leading into faint light within.

Once again thankful for having a black uniform to wear at night, Amos dashed across the street and flattened himself against the wall of the Helix building. He inched his way over the door.

 _Okay, here we are,_ he thought. _Now, how do I get in?_

Seeing little else in terms of a stealthy option, he tried to open the door. Predictably, it was locked. Amos sighed and looked around, even upward, in search of a way in. He doubted he could scale the building and enter through an upper window, nor had he the means to quietly pick the lock or land on the roof. He reached a finger for his radio to call for backup, but stopped.

 _Widow's not going to be happy if I try to avoid doing this myself, isn't she?_ Amos sighed. _And an unhappy Widow means a dead me. Well…here goes everything._

He walked away for a moment, then returned shortly after, dragging a large vase from the nearby bazaar with him.

"Alley-oop!" Amos grunted with a mighty heave, tossing the vase through the front window and shattering the glass, causing an alarm to immediately go off. "Totally just like a professional would."

With a way inside now available, Amos carefully entered Helix's facility, gingerly treading around the broken glass. He made his way over to a wall, flattening himself against it with his gun at the ready. Most of the lobby's area seemed to be in its height, with a large space above him seemingly filled with nothing.

Then several doors in the walls above him opened, revealing a squadron of men and women in bird-like armored suits. Most of the suits were a dirty light brown, but a few seemed to be personalized with different colors. All of them bore a large cylindrical gun loaded with massive, rocket-like bullets.

 _Uh-oh,_ Amos gulped.

Helix's security guards leapt out of the walls, the wings on their backs releasing fire as their jets lowered them safely down to the floor. Amos was quickly surrounded, with every rocket launcher trained on his person.

"Freeze!" cried one of the guards, a woman in sapphire armor who cautiously stepped forward. "You are under arrest for breaking and entering! Put your hands where we can see them!"

Amos' heart started thumping again. He could see an awful lot of rocket launchers pointing at his head. He slowly raised his hands into the air.

"Well, there's, uh…not much else I can do, is there?" Amos said with a nervous laugh. He suddenly dropped a hand into one of his pouches. "OH, WAIT, MY PHONE'S GOING OFF!"

"I said keep your hands in the—!" the guard in blue began, only to be cut off when one of Amos' sticky grenades was flung directly at her. The grenade exploded into goop, covering her rocket launcher and pinning her arms to her sides.

"Pharah!" a few of the other guards cried. Amos scrambled away, but the remaining Helix personnel took aim.

"Concussive rounds only!" Pharah ordered as she and a pair of other guards tried desperately to remove the slime from her armor. "I want minimal structural damage!"

One guard pointed his left fist at Amos, launching a small rocket that exploded behind him and tossed him forward. Another guard followed suit, this time sending a rocket that catapulted the now-screaming Amos upward into the air. The Talon soldier soon fell to earth with a thud, and Pharah got enough of the goop removed to make her arms and weapon usable again.

"Nice try," she frowned, "but we're taking you in, dead or alive."

"Oh, that sounds neighborly," Amos groaned as he tried to rise to his feet, only to have multiple rocket launchers aimed at him once again.

"Now, let's try this again," Pharah said, adding her own rocket launcher to the count. "Put your hands over your head and—"

Pharah trailed off when a rumbling sound came through the open window. She immediately glared at Amos from beneath her beak-like visor.

"What's that noise?!" she demanded, shoving the barrel of her launcher into his forehead. "What did you do?!"

"Nothing, I swear!" Amos shrieked.

"Captain, we got incoming!" one of the other guards cried.

More rockets came from outside, these quickly blowing the front doors to pieces. A trio of black-and-blue tank-like vehicles rolled in, the massive cannon on the front of each firing on every living thing in the vicinity. Helix guards were torn to shreds in the ensuing firefight, causing Pharah's eyes to go wide.

"Get back!" she cried, kicking the fallen Amos to the wall and quickly positioning herself between him and the tanks.

She opened fire, her first rocket quickly tearing through one of the tanks and giving the other two pause. The remaining tanks began to shift their bodies around, assuming the humanoid form of the Talon Omnic's personal Bastion units as they aimed their gun-hands at Pharah.

"I've lost a team once," she growled. "I will _not_ fail again."

The Bastions opened fire, but Pharah was quicker with her shots. Her rockets decimated each Bastion in seconds, but judging by the metallic thumps that grew steadily louder, the fight was not yet over.

A hulking figure appeared in the doorway, body covered in large spikes and a cavernous gargoyle-like mouth built into its chest. The figure stepped forward, each movement producing a mechanical whir, as it gripped the long-handled axe in its massive hands. Another pair of Bastions appeared behind it, guns at the ready.

"Uh, what is that?" Amos gulped, pointing at the colossal axe-wielding machine. Pharah simply narrowed her eyes.

"Someone with a sick sense of humor," she growled, readying her rocket launcher again.

She fired off a shot, but the spike-covered figure put its left arm forward, producing a blood red barrier eerily similar to that of Reinhardt. Pharah's eyes went wide for a moment, but she recovered quickly.

"Where did you get that technology?" she demanded of the figure.

"Blackhardt here can't talk," an English accented-voice replied as the Talon Omnic stepped out from behind the behemoth, rifle in hand and Vishkar drones by his side. He now wore what seemed to be Balderich's helmet on his head, along with a green cape attached to his shoulders. "But I think even you can figure that I can."

He glanced behind her, and saw Amos staring at him.

"…really?" he sighed. "You again?"

Pharah looked to Amos with a glare. "Explain."

"Uh, long story, I'll tell you later!" Amos waved her off before looking back to the Talon Omnic. He made sure to keep speaking before Pharah could get a word in. "Okay, seriously, what the actual hell? What are you doing here? What are these—are those Omnics? What is this giant spiky thing? And—actually, what are you wearing?"

"Oh, these?" the Talon Omnic replied, gesturing to his new helmet and cape. "Found them in Germany, figured I might as well try a new look. After all," he added, snapping his fingers and prompting the Vishkar drones to hover directly above him, "I'm on my way to ruling the world."

"Uh—um…you've…you've really lost me, I'm sorry," Amos shook his head. "What?"

The Talon Omnic shook his head, but continued. "Humans have oppressed Omnics for years; I'm living proof of that. Overwatch kept up that rot about making a better world, but it's only better for _them_. For their precious _humans_. If you want something done right, you do it yourself. So, I'm going to wipe human civilization from the face of the Earth—"

Amos' eyes went wide. Pharah's jaw clenched as she aimed her gun directly at the Talon Omnic.

"—and make a new civilization where Omnics rule," the mad machine finished. "I will lead my people, my _real_ people, into a new age. I'll be the king of all…an Omnirex."

"Wait, wait," Amos held up a hand. "A what?"

"Omnirex?" the Talon Omnic replied with an irritated sigh. "My new name? Should mean something along the lines of 'king of all'."

"I…don't think that's how Latin actually works," Amos pointed out.

"Look, I spent three hours trying to come up with a name that wasn't taken by somebody's pet project, of course I'm going to butcher things to get something good!" Omnirex snapped. "Anyway, we're getting really off-topic here! Blackhardt!"

The darkened suit of Crusader armor lumbered forth, swinging its axe horizontally in front of it. Pharah's jets carried her into the air above the behemoth, while Amos stumbled back as the blade whizzed by.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" Amos cried.

"Wiping out all humans means you need to die, too," Omnirex said flatly. "That being said, I haven't forgotten what you've done for me. I might build you a statue or something, we'll see."

He raised a hand, and the two Bastions aimed their guns, one at Amos and one at Pharah. Pharah shot first once again, but this time Blackhardt's shield protected its fellow machines from the Helix officer's assault. Amos quickly threw another one of his glue grenades at the other Bastion, only for the sphere to bounce harmlessly off of Blackhardt's barrier and onto the floor, creating a mess of goop where it landed.

"Huh," muttered Omnirex as he examined Amos' mistaken handiwork, "could use one of those."

He pointed at Pharah, and with that silent order, his Vishkar drones released their lasers in her direction. Portions of Pharah's armor became burnt and blasted, but she shot higher into the air and narrowed her eyes. Compartments began to open all over her armor, revealing all manner of missiles loaded within.

"Oh, boy," Amos whimpered as he ducked for cover. Pharah snarled down at her mechanical foes.

"JUSTICE RAINS FROM ABOVE!" she roared, firing every last one of her missiles at once. Each one slammed down upon her targets, creating a burst of smoke from the impact. Once her missiles were gone and her targets were obscured by smoke, Pharah touched back down on the ground. "Justice has been done."

But, as if on cue, Omnirex casually stepped out of the smoke without even a dent in his armor. The smoke soon cleared, revealing that his minions were also unharmed. Blackhardt's barrier was now coated in cracks, but this appeared to be the sacrifice that was made to save them.

"You," Omnirex growled, aiming his rifle at Pharah, "don't know the first thing about justice."

He fired on her, the shotgun spread scattering bullets across her armor. Pharah fell to the ground, wounded but alive.

"Oh, no! Oh, no, no, no!" Amos mumbled, rushing to Pharah's side with one of his medical wraps ready. Just before he could place one on her wounds, however, he felt something hard tap the side of his helmet.

"It's been nice knowing you, grunt," Omnirex said, setting himself up for a point-blank shot into Amos' skull. "And I've never told that to any human I've known."

Then the group heard a guttural roar.

Omnirex looked up and back to the front door, as did his robotic minions. Pharah lifted herself up, pushing Amos aside with a scowl in the process. Before anyone could make any sort of comment, a blur of blue light flashed past Omnirex's soldiers and into the air, firing a volley of blue lasers into one of the Bastions, riddling it with holes and quickly dismantling it. A massive red shape barged through the robotic blockade, knocking aside both robots and shattering the final Bastion's body. The blue blur suddenly came to a stop beside Pharah, followed shortly by the red shape.

"Cheers, love!" Tracer grinned at Pharah, the red hue of Winston's skin and fur returning as his normal grey-and-black returned. "The cavalry's here!"

 _No way,_ Amos thought as his eyes went wide. Two actual members of Overwatch had just appeared out of nowhere in front of him. Pharah looked just as surprised as he did, her jaw dropping as she pushed herself to her feet.

But Omnirex clenched his fist.

"The 'cavalry'. Because why not?" he growled. "Blackhardt!"

The last of Omnirex's present minions readied its axe and charged. Winston bared his teeth and barreled straight into the hulking machine, tackling it to the ground and wrestling with it over possession of its massive axe. Omnirex prepared to fire on the trio of humans before him, but Pharah quickly fired off a concussion rocket that sent him soaring outside.

"Nice shot!" Tracer grinned again.

"Tracer?" Pharah pulled off her helmet, revealing long black hair and an Eye of Horus tattooed over her right eye. "Is that really you?"

"Fareeha?" Tracer's eyes went wide, the rest of her body running over to the Helix officer and wrapping Pharah in a quick hug. "I should be asking you that, love! Oh, wow, that armor looks great on you! How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, but we'll need to catch up later," Pharah said, pointing to the door. "That Omnic seems like the stubborn type."

"Right!" Tracer held up her pistols. "Let's show him how we did things back in Overwatch!"

"Um, excuse me?"

Both women turned to find Amos still standing next to them.

"Er, hi, I'm, uh…just kind of, you know, 'here' at this point," Amos stammered. "Can I get out of this alive, please?"

Tracer immediately pointed her guns at him with a glare, but Pharah shook her head.

"We have bigger problems than a single Talon grunt," the Helix officer said. "Let's deal with them, first."

"You got it!" Tracer gave Pharah a quick salute before rushing to aid Winston. Blackhardt had managed to knock the ape away, but soon found Tracer a much harder target to strike with its axe. The time-hopper vanished and zipped about in flashes of blue light, confounding her larger foe and thwarting its efforts to cleave her in tow.

Meanwhile, as Pharah had predicted, Omnirex charged back into the building with an animalistic cry of rage, his Vishkar drones focusing their fire on Pharah and Amos. The Talon soldier rolled aside with a yelp, but Pharah soared into the air again and fired a shot at Omnirex's head. The megalomaniacal Omnic ducked and saved himself, but his drones were immediately blown to pieces by Pharah's rocket.

"Bah!" Omnirex grunted. "Break me and mine all you want, it won't stop me!"

With a snap of his fingers, two more drones appeared above him in a burst of red light. Meanwhile, Tracer quickly vaulted off of Blackhardt's body, firing another volley of laser shots that forced the twisted Crusader suit back as Winston slammed it into the wall. Once she had a moment, however, Tracer quickly turned her attention to Omnirex himself.

"Sounds like you need a time-out!" she quipped, preparing her guns.

"Piss off, tosser," Omnirex snarled. He fired his gun several times, but Tracer blinked away from each with ease. "Oh, come on! _Enough_ with the blinking already!"

Tracer suddenly appeared in front of him and swiftly kicked his gun out of his hands.

"You know, you sound kind of familiar," she said. "Have we met somewhere before?"

"That doesn't matter," Omnirex growled. Then, he sighed. His voice took on a softer tone as he looked down at his metallic body. "Definitely not anymore."

Tracer froze. Her eyes bulged.

"…E-Eli? Eli Dror? Is that you?" she gasped. Omnirex simply looked at her with a blank stare. Amos couldn't help but stare in shock at her knowledge of the Talon-made Omnic's identity. "Oh my God, is—is that you, love?"

Even beneath Balderich's pilfered helmet, the lights on Omnirex's forehead could be seen flickering violently.

"You have no right to CALL ME THAT!" he roared, his Vishkar drones unleashing another beam assault. Tracer back-flipped out of the way as Omnirex scrambled for his discarded gun, pressing a button on the side and causing a compartment on the bottom to open. Something was visible in the compartment; it looked like a grenade.

Winston gasped at the sight of it, pushing Blackhardt aside and leaping to Tracer'ss side. He quickly placed one of his barrier devices on the floor, and the protective blue bubble appeared just in time. Omnirex began firing a series of grenades from the new compartment, each one exploding ferociously against the barrier.

"This will protect us!" Winston assured the group, noticing Pharah's fascinated stare and Amos' worriedly looking about. "Tracer, what's going on? Do you know that Omnic?"

"Sort of!" Tracer replied, firing more shots to keep Blackhardt at bay. "He used to be this kid from King's Row! His parents were Omnic rights activists I met at one of Mondatta's big speeches! I…I don't know what's happened, he's somehow gotten turned into an Omnic!"

Amos took a deep breath before speaking. "Yeah, um…Talon did that." He felt all the glares in the world boring into his heart, but he continued. "I know, I know! I'm the guilty party, even though no one tells the grunts anything about their big projects! Look, I don't know the details, but he said he got picked off the street by some other grunts, then got brought to the base I'm usually stationed at to have his mind pulled out of his human skull and shoved into an Omnic one."

Tracer's glare was the most intense of all, her usual smile all but gone. She reached forward and snatched Amos' collar in both her hands.

"You people are monsters, you know that?!" she spat in his helmeted face. "Why do you do all these terrible things?!"

All Amos could do was cringe and cower. He wanted to argue, to tell her how different he was. He wanted to tell her about the people he had helped, the lives he had saved. But, he thought, what good would that do? Tracer showed no signs of being receptive to anything he had to say. So he simply kept quiet. Maybe that made things worse—it certainly made her angry frown more prominent—but he could think of nothing else.

"We'll deal with him later," Pharah said to Tracer, glaring at Amos all the while. The time-hopper gave the Talon soldier one last glare before letting go.

"I second that motion, because my barrier's giving out!" Winston added. Cracks were appearing in his energy sphere, but Omnirex still had one last grenade left.

"DEATH TO ALL MEATBAGS!" Omnirex roared as the last grenade fired.

Pharah narrowed her eyes and took aim, firing a single rocket that struck the grenade. Both projectiles exploded upon contact, spraying fire and smoke throughout the room. In moments, the smoke cleared, partly due to Blackhardt's repeated swinging of its axe.

"All right! Any ideas?" Tracer asked.

Amos raised a hand.

"Winston, can you handle the Reinhardt rip-off?" Pharah asked. Amos sadly lowered his hand.

"We'll certainly find out," the gorilla replied, pushing up his glasses.

"Um, excuse me?" Amos tried again, but Tracer sent him a warning glare. He shrank back and fell silent.

"Keep an eye on our 'friend' here," she told Pharah while jabbing a thumb at Amos. "I'm gonna try something."

She blinked out of sight, leaving Pharah to put her rocket launcher to Amos' head again. As Winston and Blackhardt grappled once more, Tracer suddenly appeared out of nowhere directly in front of Omnirex, tackling him to the ground and causing him to drop his rifle again.

"Eli!" she cried. "Come on, talk to me! You recognize me, right?"

She got off of him and stood up.

"It's me, Lena!" she continued with as big a smile as she could muster. "Remember all the good times we had when you were growing up?"

"Oh…I remember you, all right," Omnirex growled as he also rose to his feet. "I remember how you made my life miserable, bit by tiny bit. And I remember how you let Mondatta die."

Tracer froze. Her energy vanished in a heartbeat as her face fell.

"You're nothing but a failure, Oxton," Omnirex snarled, waving a hand. The eyes of each of his drones took aim at Tracer's forehead "And now you'll pay the price."

Tracer vanished just as the drones fired. Omnirex's forehead lights blinked furiously again.

"God DAMMIT OXTON!" the megalomaniacal Omnic roared. "EVERY BLOODY TIME!"

Omnirex's time-hopping foe reappeared by Pharah's side with a sigh.

"Okay, that didn't work!" Tracer remarked. She glared at Amos again. "What did your people do him?!"

"I swear, I told you everything I know already!" Amos almost shrieked. "I'm just a grunt! I already said no one tells me the important things!"

"You expect us to believe that?" Tracer snorted.

"DON'T YOU IGNORE ME, OXTON!" Omnirex suddenly roared, his drones firing a cascade of beams into the group of three. Pharah shot into the air, Tracer agilely leapt aside, and Amos stumbled out of the way. "YOU'RE GOING TO DIE, YOU HEAR ME?! YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR YOUR FAILURES, AND FOR EVERYTHING ELSE YOU'VE DONE!"

"Eli, come on!" Tracer pleaded, still dodging the Talon Omnic's laser fire. "Whatever's happened to you, we can work this out! We're friends!"

"YOU ARE _NOT_ MY _FRIEND_!" Omnirex bellowed, picking his rifle back up again and firing wildly. His foes continued to dodge as best they could as he continued raving. "YOU'VE HAD EVERYTHING BLOODY HANDED TO YOU ON A SILVER PLATTER! I'VE HAD TO WORK WITH _NOTHING_! YOU DON'T HAVE A BLOODY CLUE WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW IT FEELS TO BE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY _ALONE_!"

Amos raised his hand. Omnirex stopped shooting long enough to glance at him. Winston still struggled with Blackhardt, but Pharah and Tracer had their guns at the ready.

"I do," Amos said simply. "I was, uh…under the impression we had already established that."

Tracer looked like she was about to make another bitter comment, but Omnirex spoke first.

"Yeah…we did establish that, didn't we? Back when you got me away from Talon," the Omnic said. Tracer's anger seemed to finally fade. "You've…done a lot of things you didn't have to do. You even helped me disarm that EMP back in King's Row."

Tracer's jaw dropped as she whirled on Amos. "That was _you_?!"

"Well, me and a couple other people, but…yeah," Amos shrugged. "It's just…what I do these days."

"That doesn't really explain anything about you," Omnirex pointed out. "How do you know what loneliness feels like? Why do you go out of your way to help others when there's nothing in it for you?"

Amos rubbed the back of his neck. "Well…it's kind of a long story. Everyone got a few minutes to not kill each other?"

A ding came from behind them, and an elevator opened. Another of Omnirex's black-and-blue Bastions stepped out, this one bearing what looked like a welder in its arm.

"Doesn't look like it, sorry," Omnirex said quickly. "Blackhardt!"

The rockets on the Crusader look-alike's back ignited, and the massive machine slammed its full body into Winston as it pushed the both of them through a wall and out of the building. Omnirex fired a few more rifle shots to further scatter his remaining enemies as his Bastion converted into tank mode and approached its master.

"I've got what I came for, and it's taking way too long to kill you all," Omnirex declared as he climbed on top of the tank Bastion. "It's time I left."

With that, he rode off, still firing shots to keep his human foes at bay.

"Eli!" Tracer yelled. She ran to the door to catch him, but his drones got there first, placing a barrier of light in the destroyed doorway. By the time the barrier faded and the drones left, not a mechanical being was in sight. Tracer frowned.

"Are you all right?" Pharah asked. Tracer sighed, but soon a smile was back on her face.

"I'll be fine," the time-hopper said. "Man, Fareeha, it's great to see you again!"

"It's Pharah, now; my new callsign with Helix's security forces," Pharah explained with a smile of her own. "But it's good to see you, too. It's been far too long. Does this mean Overwatch is back?"

Tracer shook her head. "It's just me and Winston right now, but we're working on it."

"I wish I could help you, but I can't just leave my post," Pharah sighed. The two women were focused enough on their conversation for Amos to try and sneak away. "Tracer, you're so lucky. Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of joining Overwatch."

Amos stopped.

"Maybe you'll still get your chance," Tracer grinned. "After all, who knows what the future holds?"

Giving his head a quick shake, Amos tried to tiptoe away again. Before he could take three steps, however, Tracer was suddenly in front of him.

"And where are you off to?" she asked with fists on hips.

"Um…I left the stove on?" Amos said with a nervous laugh. Tracer's skeptical look was enough of an answer, so he made a mad dash for the exit. Unfortunately, Pharah landed in front of him, rocket launcher at the ready.

"You're not going anywhere," the Helix officer growled.

Amos swallowed hard and took a few steps back, but then a loud thump came from just behind him.

"Sorry about that, did I miss anything?" Winston asked, Blackhardt having apparently made its own escape.

"Our Omnic got away," Pharah explained, "leaving us free to deal with our other problem."

Amos nervously reached into one of his pouches for another glue grenade.

"DROP IT!" both Pharah and Tracer snapped at the same time, weapons trained on him.

Amos went quiet again as he slowly put his grenade down into his pant pocket. But he still held his gun close to him. Winston prepared his Tesla Cannon, but he hesitated. He could hear heavy breathing, just shy of hyperventilating, coming from beneath this Talon soldier's helmet.

"Just put the gun down, nice and easy, and then put your hands into the air," Winston said as calmly as he could. "If you do that, we'll have no reason to hurt you."

"Winston, what are you…?"

The ape held up his free hand to silence Pharah.

"Listen," he said. Silence fell over the room for a moment, broken only by Amos' breathing. The grunt's hands were shaking as he feverishly looked around for an escape route that did not exist. Winston's voice softened. "He's terrified."

Pharah still looked skeptical. Tracer frowned, but there was a hint of concern in her expression. Nonetheless, both of them kept their weapons trained on Amos.

"Is there somewhere here we can hold him?" Winston asked Pharah.

"I can find us a room, yes."

"Good," Winston nodded. He looked back to Amos. "Look…just cooperate with us. We just want to ask you some questions. Please…put the gun down, and put your hands in the air."

Amos' hands still shook. His breathing was still heavy. It was all he could do to hold in his panic.

But he complied. He slowly laid his handgun onto the floor. He raised his hands above his head just as deliberately.

"All right, thank you," Winston continued. "Now…we're going to need to take some things from you. Just…sit tight while we do it. We don't want any trouble."

Amos jaw began to shake in time with his hands. He highly doubted Winston's words.

He suspected that the trouble had only just begun.


	11. Chapter 11: Days in the Lives

**Hey, all. Only a few chapters left in this little ride, but before we get to that, I'll be taking a short break to finish up a Christmas side-story I've been meaning to put out (hopefully I'll finish it before the Winter Wonderland event ends, and at least be somewhat seasonally-appropriate). Until then, happy holidays!**

Chapter 11: Days in the Lives

Amos wanted to crawl into the deepest possible hole and hide there until everything around him passed by.

His helmet was in Tracer's hands. Pharah had confiscated his gun. Winston was busy examining his collection of slime grenades and smoke bombs. Amos had no way of contacting Talon, though he doubted they would have mounted a rescue attempt just for him anyway. And he now had virtually no means of defending himself from the highly-trained former Overwatch personnel and the rocket-toting Helix security officer.

 _Yep,_ he thought. _I am going to die._

The room Pharah had chosen for his interrogation was actually a conference room, complete with a long table and numerous chairs. The wall into which the only door was built was made of glass, and through it Amos could see his captors having a conversation; the topic of their conversation was most likely how to punish him for his allegiance, if the several gestures Tracer made in his direction while seemingly trying to argue a point to Pharah were any indication.

Amos put his hands together in a prayer-like gesture and inhaled deeply, letting his abdomen expand as the air filled his lungs. Then, he exhaled, allowing his abdomen to shrink back to its normal state. He repeated his gesture until he felt his need to panic finally leave him. If he was going to be interrogated, he needed to be calm. He had to give his captors as few advantages as possible.

Finally, after several moments of discussion, the two Overwatch agents filed inside. Pharah evidently elected to remain outside as a guard, making Amos very glad he had chosen to sit near the back of the room. Tracer sat in one of the chairs on the side, immediately spinning it around in the process. Winston remained on his feet and knuckles, likely due to how much larger his frame was than the chairs.

"Hello, again," the armored gorilla said with a smile. Amos blinked; Winston sounded like he was trying to be friendly. Maybe he was supposed to play good cop? "So…uh…how are you doing?"

Now Amos was quite confused. Tracer stopped spinning for a moment and looked at him expectantly, smiling happily all the while.

"Well, uh…considering that I'm stuck in the same room with two of the people who wanted me dead about twenty minutes ago…" Amos trailed off.

"Oh, right, that, uh…that _was_ a bit of a silly question, wasn't it?" Winston admitted with a slight chuckle.

"We don't want to hurt you, love. Not anymore," Tracer added, still smiling and now raising her hand in a scout's honor gesture. "Promise!"

"Oh, good. That's great to hear from the people who have lasers and electric cannons in here and about two thousand rocket launchers of screaming justice standing outside," Amos deadpanned with a gesture to Pharah. "I feel safer already."

Tracer let out a snicker.

"Screaming justice," she giggled.

Amos' head slightly tilted to the side in bewilderment. This was not how he was expecting things to go; why were neither of them trying to play bad cop?

"Okay, we don't have a lot of time here, and we're getting a bit off-topic," Winston cleared his throat. "Let's see if we can get to the point."

He took a few steps forward, towards Amos. The Talon soldier immediately withdrew as far back as he could into his chair; this prompted Winston to stop, retreat with a mumbled apology, and clear his throat again.

"Er, so," the ape began. "You, uh…you said to that Omnic that you knew how it felt to be alone, and that it was a long story why."

"…yeah?" Amos said slowly. "W-what about it?"

"Well…if it's all right with you," Winston continued, "we'd like to hear it."

"Wait, what?" Amos shook his head slightly to make sure he heard that correctly. "Why?"

"Because we want to know," Tracer beamed. "You're not like any Talon agent we've seen, especially if what Eli said about the things you've done is true."

"Okay, wait, back up!" Amos held up both of his hands. "You people—the mortal enemies of the people I work for—actually expect me to believe that you're 'just curious' about _me_?"

"Well…we do understand that it might be hard for you to believe us," Winston nodded. "Maybe we can tell you a little bit about ourselves first? Will that make you feel more comfortable?"

"Uh…I mean, I guess?" Amos shrugged. "I don't know how a group therapy session will help anyone here, but—"

"Great!" Tracer chirped and clapped her hands together before directing them in Winston's direction. "You go first, big guy!"

Winston did a double-take with a grunt, but shrugged.

"Well, uh, okay," the gorilla said. "Um…my name's Winston—though you probably already knew that—and, uh…I'm from the moon."

Amos blinked. "Uh…"

"I know, I know, just stay with me," Winston chuckled. "Have you ever heard about the Horizon Lunar Colony? I used to live there, when I was just a child. I was part of a group of gorillas who were genetically engineered to—hmm, how can I put this—test how living in space could affect humans."

He took his glasses off for an absent-minded glance at them.

"I was showing very rapid brain development, even at my young age," Winston continued. "A scientist there named Dr. Harold Winston started teaching me all sorts of things. He taught me so much about science, and about humans. Like, how much they've achieved with what little resources they had, and how brilliantly they solved countless architectural and scientific obstacles...ah, there were so many inspiring stories."

A somber look crossed the gorilla's black-furred brow.

"Then, one day, the other gorillas started an uprising," Winston sighed, staring at his glasses. "Dr. Winston, my mentor, was…killed. He was like a father to me, so…I thought it was only right that I take on his name. These glasses were from him, too."

"…I'm…sorry to hear that," Amos said sadly. Winston smiled.

"Don't worry, things get better," he said. "I built a sort of makeshift rocket to take me down to Earth. Once I was there, Overwatch took me in. I learned even more in their care, and eventually I got to be a full-time member."

"Right around the time I did, in fact!" Tracer added. "Okay, me next! Let's see…I got my start signing on with Overwatch as a test pilot. Man, it was exciting! I'd been working my whole life towards that moment!"

Amos laid his hands on the table and placed his chin behind them, partly as an attempt to hide an annoyed frown.

"My first flight was to test the Slipstream, this jet Overwatch was developing that was supposed to teleport in mid-flight," Tracer continued, seemingly oblivious to Amos' souring mood. "And it teleported, all right. Went right off the map and took me with it. Everyone thought I was dead, but I got myself back some months later."

Her constant energy seemed to finally fade by this point. She put her hands in her lap and continued speaking.

"Something had gone wrong with the Slipstream's teleportation matrix, and that ended up making something go wrong with my body," Tracer explained. "Doctors called it chronal disassociation. I kept disappearing for hours and days at a time, and even when I was around in the present, I wasn't…really there. I was like a ghost. I couldn't touch anything. Sometimes, I even had these weird dreams about the olden days, like this one time I was a kitchen maid in a big house in the country."

"…I can't for a second picture you as a kitchen maid," Amos said flatly.

"Ha-ha! I know, right?" Tracer laughed. "But, wait!"

She dramatically gestured to Winston with both hands.

"That was when this big guy swooped in and saved the day!" Tracer announced. Winston embarrassedly rubbed the back of his head while Tracer put her hands on the harness around her torso. "Winston made me this chronal accelerator I'm wearing. It keeps me here in the present instead of off in who-knows-when, and you know what else it lets me do?"

Before Amos could respond, Tracer demonstrated by blinking out of her chair and across the room several times. Seconds later, she reappeared in her chair as if nothing had happened.

"It's so _wicked_!" Tracer grinned. "The top brass at Overwatch decided to make me a field agent once they saw my new tricks. The rest," she added with a cross of her legs, "is history."

Amos was quiet for a moment as he took in everything he had been told. Eventually, he lifted his chin off of the table once he felt two pairs of eyes boring into his soul.

"My turn it is," Amos sighed. "First off…I, uh…I don't think I ever actually mentioned my name. It's…Amos. Amos Clemens."

"Nice to meet you, love!" Tracer chimed in cheerfully with a two-fingered salute.

"…yeah, sure," Amos said with a touch of disbelief. "Okay, so…where do I start with me? Well…actually—you're going to laugh at this, but—growing up, I was actually a big fan of Overwatch. I mean, who wouldn't be? You guys were the best there was at what you did. I wanted to be part of that for so long: saving lives, helping people, righting wrongs, all that fun stuff."

He sighed as he leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling lights.

"I spent my college days—or university, whatever you call it where you're from, I've heard different names—trying to get the kinds of skills Overwatch would want," Amos continued. "I studied medicine, I did gym—well, I did it sometimes, I wasn't very good at it—and I took firearms classes…I wanted to have a really strong resume to fit in with the world's best."

Amos' expression darkened, still staring at the ceiling.

"Not everyone was happy with what I wanted to do, of course," he continued, "especially when all the shady corruption stuff surrounding Overwatch came up. All the people I knew started condemning you guys, but I just kept doing what I was doing—probably not the smartest thing to do, but I didn't believe the stuff that was being said about Overwatch. I just…believed in my heroes, I guess. I graduated in a few years and put in my application to Overwatch. Big dream come true, right?"

He smiled bitterly.

"Then Overwatch was shut down a couple days or so later," Amos continued, smile vanishing in an instant. "And everyone I had ever known—friends, family, everyone—decided that this was the best time to heap every 'I-told-you-so' in the world on me. I was pretty much a total failure as far as they were concerned, so I did what I thought the natural thing would be and started cutting the negative influence out of my life. Trying to move forward and all that."

Amos closed his eyes and sighed. He hadn't seen Tracer and Winston's reactions; they had been awfully quiet for the duration of his story, especially considering Tracer's demeanor. Amos figured that it was for the best that he didn't know.

"Turns out that 'everyone I know' does actually mean 'everyone I know'," he said, still going out of his way to avoid the sight of his audience. "I haven't spoken to my family in years. Don't think I have any friends left, they're probably better off without me in their lives. I was living alone in New York, surviving on odd jobs, when this guy in a grim reaper suit shows up in my apartment. Somehow, he had found the application I sent to Overwatch, and figured I would be a good body for Talon to throw around. So, he put a couple giant shotguns in my face and told me to sign up…so I did. Three or four months of boot camp and a lot of awful stuff later, the brainwashing they gave me breaks during the world's biggest panic attack, and now I'm the hopeless mess you see today."

Amos finally looked over to Winston and Tracer. He was expecting judgmental glares and the clicking of guns; as far as the world was concerned, that was what he deserved. That was what everyone in Talon deserved, regardless of how they got there.

But judgment and violence were the farthest things from the emotions visible in the Overwatch duo's eyes. Tracer's jubilation was gone, replaced with a worried stare. Winston made several motions as if to speak, but stopped himself each time.

"…what?" Amos blinked. "What are you people doing? Why are you looking at me like that? Uh... is there something on my face? Is there something behind me? What?"

He started looking around and behind his chair, but Winston put up a hand.

"No, no, there's nothing wrong," Winston said. "It's just…we're sorry that things, er…took a turn for the worse for you."

Amos stared at him for a moment. "Um…thanks? I think? I don't—"

"What do you mean 'you think'?" Tracer interrupted, furrowing her brow.

"I-I mean, it's just—what do I say?" Amos stammered. "I…I don't want to say the wrong thing and give you guys a good excuse to shoot at me again, and—"

"Give us—what?" Tracer looked at him like he had grown two heads. "Aw, heck with it! Come here, you!"

Tracer suddenly pulled Amos out of his chair and onto his feet, wrapping him in a tight hug just as quickly. Her chronal accelerator's jabbing into his chest made it slightly uncomfortable, but the gesture was otherwise much more warm and loving than Amos expected. The fact that his body remained rigid as a pole throughout the whole experience, arms frozen at his sides, was enough of an indicator.

"Uh…um…what? What are you doing?" Amos sputtered.

"What'cha think I'm doing, love?" Tracer replied, finally breaking the one-sided hug after a final squeeze. She held his shoulders at arms' length. "So, let's get off on the right foot this time, huh?"

Amos gave her a funny look, but she only smiled and offered him a hand.

"Lena Oxton, callsign 'Tracer'," the former test pilot said. "What do you say we be friends?"

The funny look he had given her was back with an accompaniment of utter shock.

"I—what? I…you, uh…okay, now you've _completely_ lost me," Amos stammered. "Wasn't I the bad guy?"

"Aw, rubbish!" Tracer's hands were back on his shoulders and subjecting him to a brief shake. Amos blinked; people actually said phrases like that? "Yeah, you're on the wrong side, but you're not actually bad yourself! In fact, you seem like you've got a real big heart in there!"

She gave him a swift poke to the chest to illustrate.

"Ow!" Amos replied, one of his own hands going to the area Tracer had just poked.

"Pfft! Come off it, I didn't poke you _that_ hard!" Tracer laughed.

"That's where your harness was poking me!"

"And that's why I take it off when I'm with my girlfriend!"

Amos blinked. "Thank you for sharing that thing I didn't need to know."

Tracer burst out into a full guffaw at this, and Winston added in a chuckle of his own. Even Amos was infected with this contagious mirth, managing a small laugh and a smile.

"Yeah, I think we'll get along just fine," Tracer smiled, throwing an arm around Amos' shoulders. Her new friend stared at this foreign gesture for a brief moment, but eventually just gave an accepting shrug. "Hang on, here's an idea! Why not come help me and Winston bring back Overwatch?"

All Amos could do was stare at her, mouth slightly open in sheer bewilderment. "Uh…"

"You could join us and fight the good fight," Tracer added. "You know, like you always wanted?"

"O-okay, you keep throwing me all these curveballs," Amos said, raising his hands again, "and I have no idea how to respond to any of them."

"Aw, that's fine!" Tracer smiled as she slid her arm off of him. "Just think about it, all right? The world could always use more heroes."

With another quick but friendly smile, she and Winston turned to leave.

"Uh, wait, hang on," Amos sputtered, and the Overwatch agents stopped. "Um…what happens now?"

"Honestly? At this point, we're not really sure ourselves," Winston replied. "But you can be sure you won't be arrested. That seems like the last thing you need."

"We'll figure something out, love," Tracer added, "something that'll benefit all of us here. Be back soon!"

The two left, and Amos was alone once again.

Somehow, he doubted he would be able to wait until they reached a verdict.

Through the glass wall, he saw Tracer and Winston discussing something with Pharah again. Amos still couldn't hear them, but Pharah was looking adamant in her decision to stand guard. Tracer seemed to be pleading with the armored officer, but Winston said something and made a gesture telling the former test pilot to back down. The two Overwatch agents soon departed the viewing area, most likely to have a private discussion regarding the fate of their captive, leaving Pharah outside Amos' improvised cell.

The Talon soldier clenched his teeth. Pharah was standing between him and freedom, and judging by her demeanor, she would not hesitate to launch a rocket into his face if he so much as breathed in a way she disliked. There had to be something Amos could do to—

 _Wait_ , he thought as he felt his pant pocket. The sticky grenade he had put away was still there; his captors had apparently forgotten about it. He looked around frantically, finding nothing that would help him further.

Nothing but a plethora of chairs.

With a quick breath to steady himself, Amos grabbed one of the chairs and began wheeling it along the floor, building up speed as he ran it towards the window Pharah was standing in front of. She didn't see him; her back was to the room, which made it all the more embarrassing when Amos hefted the momentum-boosted chair through the window and knocked the Helix officer to the floor.

"Sorry!" Amos called out as he bounded off the chair and down the hall. Pharah quickly shoved the chair off of her and got up, but Amos spun around and lobbed his grenade at her, releasing his last glue blob and pinning her to the floor. "Sorry again!"

Amos' eyes darted everywhere they could as he looked for his gear. He soon found it sitting on a table in a separate conference room. Unfortunately, it was also the conference room Tracer and Winston had chosen to converse in, and both were shocked to see Amos burst in.

"HiguysI'msorrybutIgottarun!" Amos blurted out quickly as he snatched up his gear and bolted out the door. "Nicetalkingtoyoubye!"

"Oi!" Tracer called as she leapt out of her chair and after him, Winston accompanying her once he was able to fit through the doorway. "Amos, wait up!"

The Talon grunt in question quickly slipped his ballistic vest on, followed shortly by his helmet. He dropped another grenade to slow Tracer down as he ran past Pharah, who was already almost free from the first grenade's goop and was pulled from the rest by a passing Winston. Before Pharah could line up a shot to slow Amos down, he had dropped a smoke bomb.

The three pursuers pushed through the smokescreen and stopped in the lobby, looking around for some sign that Amos had been there. Only the open doorway out served as a clue.

"Well," Tracer remarked, "that just happened."

"We really should have handed him to the proper authorities," Pharah pointed out.

"What difference would that have made?" Tracer countered.

"Regardless, it's out of all our hands now," Pharah sighed. "If you plan on hunting him, it'll have to be without me. I'm needed here."

"Um, before we go, could I say something?" Winston asked. "Pharah…your mother was a hero to me. To all of us."

"You probably knew her better than I did," Pharah said sadly. "I imagine you two have overstayed your welcome, though."

"All right," Winston smiled. "Take care. It was good seeing you."

"Likewise," Pharah said with a small smile of her own. She turned to head back into the company, while Winston and Tracer went out the door.

"So, what do we do now?" the time-hopper asked.

"Hmm…I may have an idea," Winston said. He held his wrist to his mouth. "Thunderstrike? It's Winston. Sorry to bother you, I know you're quite busy with what you do, but…there's someone I need you to be on the lookout for."

* * *

Two massive doors spread open, leading to a cavernous factory packed to the brim with all manner of machines. Conveyer belts and assembly lines dotted the area, carrying components of a familiar black-and-blue type of Omnic. At the far end of the space was a massive throne that seemed to be made from pipes, the heads of Omnics, and other debris.

Omnirex would have smiled if he could.

"Home sweet home," he said to Blackhardt and his last remaining Bastion as the three made their way inside, the doors shutting behind them.


	12. Chapter 12: Kingdom of One

**And we're back! Hope you all had a good Christmas and New Year's (or whatever holidays you celebrate around those times). As for this story, we're now entering the home stretch, with only a couple of chapters to go. So now, without further ado, let's move on to the beginning of the end.**

Chapter 12: Kingdom of One

More time had passed since Amos' failed attempt to mine data from Helix Security. He wasn't sure how much time had passed; he had stopped paying attention to the time. In fact, there were very few things he could pay attention to at the moment.

He was far too busy making every attempt to keep off of cloud nine as he stared into Widowmaker's golden eyes once again.

"All right," the sniper sighed, a slight hint of irritation in her voice, "this will be our last little experiment with you and solo missions. It should be nothing more than a simple reconnaissance job."

"Okay, I'm with you so far," Amos shrugged.

"Talon has received word that there is activity surrounding an Omnium in Detroit, Michigan," Widowmaker said. "Officially, however, the Omnium has been shut down. Your mission will be to determine who has reactivated it, and if possible, why. You leave as soon as you are able. Dismissed."

With that, she turned her back on him again. Amos gave his head a shake and tried to keep his eyes off of her; he needed to focus.

"And, Clemens?"

Amos' next breath was rather sharp.

"Y-yes?" he asked as he looked to his superior.

"Try not to let the enemy get to you this time," she advised. Amos sheepishly rubbed his neck, beginning to regret being truthful in his report to her. "You were lucky they were so interested in you."

"N-noted," Amos stuttered. Widowmaker gave him a smirk as she left. Once she was out of sight, Amos heaved a sigh. He did not like how complicated his life was becoming.

With a deep breath to focus himself, Amos made his way into the Talon locker room. His locker, much like anything else associated with him, was practically quarantined due to his perceived insanity. This allowed Amos the privacy he desired, though he still kept only spares of his grenades and smoke bombs inside.

 _Okay. Omnium. Right,_ he thought as he rummaged through his things. _What do we know? Let's see, uh…Omniums pumped out Omnics during the war, and—_

He stopped.

 _Oh…oh, no,_ Amos thought, face paling underneath his helmet, _I think I know why the Omnium is active. I think I met the reason back in Egypt. If Omnirex or Eli or whatever his name is—if he isn't somehow in charge of that Omnium, making all those Bastions and whatever else he wants to put out, that's nothing short of a miracle._

He sighed again.

 _Well…only one way to find out for sure,_ he thought. _But I'm betting I won't like the answer._

* * *

It was winter in Detroit, and Amos was not dressed for the part.

"Talon really needs to rethink their grunt uniforms!" Amos grumbled, vigorously rubbing his bare forearms as he sat in an alley, observing the distant Omnium. Despite his discomfort, and the need to hide every time someone passed by, he feared moving from his spot. What if he missed something?

As hours passed and evening fell, the Omnium doors opened a crack. A familiar black-armored giant poked its head out and looked around, finding no signs of life. Blackhardt then looked behind itself and nodded, and shortly afterward, the doors opened fully. The animated Crusader suit led the way into the night, with Omnirex himself following behind.

 _Well, if that's not confirmation, I don't know what is,_ Amos thought. _No Bastions with him, though. That's weird. Maybe he keeps them all somewhere else and ships them that way?_

He pushed the distracting thought out of his mind; he had a mission to complete. He raised a finger to his helmet, but stopped just before it touched his radio.

 _Wait,_ Amos thought. _What's Talon going to do about this? Shutting him down is okay, since he keeps hurting people, but—wait, Talon might take him back to reprogram him or something. He's messed up enough as it is, he doesn't deserve that!_

He sighed.

 _Omnirex needs to be stopped, there's no question about that,_ his thought train continued. _But, how am I going to do it? I can't take on his whole army by myself. And I really doubt Widow and Reaper are the type to help out for this kind of thing…plus, Tracer and Winston probably have it out for me after I ran out on them._

Feeling another chill coming on, Amos buried his hands in his pockets. One of them felt a crumpled piece of paper, still in there. He pulled it out; on it was the number Tina gave him for contacting her and Thunderstrike.

 _Ugh…damned if I do, damned if I don't,_ Amos thought with a sigh. He pulled his helmet off for a moment—teeth chattering all the while—and fiddled with its radio for a moment. Then, he placed it back on his head, and with a deep breath for luck, activated his communicator.

" _Hello?_ " Thunderstrike's voice came through.

"Um, hi. This is, er…this is Amos," the Talon grunt began. "You know, the average-ordinary-everyday piece of Talon-brand cannon fodder? Uh, am I speaking to that electric guy in the blue suit who keeps showing up wherever I get deployed?"

" _That would be me, yes,_ " Thunderstrike laughed. " _And call me Thunderstrike. The media seems to like it._ "

"Uh…huh," Amos replied slowly. Did that name qualify more as corny or terrifying?

" _Now, then, what can Tina and I do for you?_ "

"Well…you remember that reddish Omnic from King's Row?" Amos began, glancing over to the Omnium.

" _I do. What about him?_ " Thunderstrike asked, his voice taking on a tone of concern.

"Yeah, uh, he's kind of…gone off the deep end," Amos explained. "He calls himself 'Omnirex' now, and he's…he's hijacked an Omnium in Detroit—that's where I am now—and he's pumping out all these black-colored Omnics. Pretty sure he's got an army of the things, now."

He swallowed hard.

"I…recently ran into him when Talon sent me to Egypt," Amos continued, the very thought of those events tossing his stomach like a salad. "He sent in some Bastion units and just…just cut down a whole Helix Security guard team. Said he wanted to…to wipe out the human race and put machines in charge."

Thunderstrike paused. " _I see...and you wish to stop him?_ "

Amos sighed. "I've seen more than enough death for one lifetime."

" _Somehow, I can believe that,_ " Thunderstrike said gravely. " _We'll be in Detroit as soon as we can. We happen to be in America right now, so it should only take us a few hours at most._ "

"Hours?" Amos repeated. "He just took some of his robots and went to go kill people! We don't _have_ hours!"

" _Then we'll make haste,_ " Thunderstrike replied. " _We'll see you shortly._ "

The line clicked. Amos sighed for the umpteenth time.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

"You seriously buy all that?" Tina asked Gunnar as the two made their way onto a train. "Robot guy going all evil overlord?"

"Let me answer that question with another," Gunnar replied, placing his suitcase on the seat beside him as Tina lounged across both of the ones across from him. "What would Amos have to gain by telling such a tale if it weren't true?"

"You tell me," Tina snorted. "He's the one hanging out with the big darkness army that _also_ wants to kill people."

Gunnar glanced out the window with a sigh.

"If there is even the slightest chance he is being truthful, I have to try," he explained. "If I can do something to restore even a little hope to someone who has lost the ability to trust others, I have to try."

"Whatever, man," Tina shrugged and leaned back in her improvised couch.

Gunnar simply glanced out the window. If there truly was an army of machines waiting for them, it would take more preparation than usual.

As well as, perhaps, a few calls.

* * *

Back in Detroit, Amos huddled in the same spot, still frosted with snow. Several hours had passed, and all manner of sensations bombarded him: hunger, tiredness, irritation, sadness. There was no sign of either the superhero Thunderstrike or his foul-mouthed sidekick. Amos sighed; this was what he got for putting any kind of trust in people.

The sounds of mechanical whirring and metallic clunking reached his ears, and soon, Blackhardt and Omnirex approached their Omnium home once more. After a quick look around for witnesses—still failing to see Amos as the grunt watched from a distant alley—the two went back inside.

Amos sighed. The cosmic conspiracy so determined to complicate his life had evidently decreed that he would be doing things alone…again. Now he needed a plan to work around that.

Then he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

The Talon soldier leapt ten feet in the air and whipped out his gun, pointing it at whoever was behind him.

It was Thunderstrike, clad in his full electric suit.

"Amos?" he said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Then why did you quietly grab my shoulder?!" Amos nearly shrieked.

"Dude, lay off the sugar," Tina remarked as she approached the two.

"I have just called two people I'm probably not supposed to call to help me do something I'm _definitely_ not supposed to do!" Amos raved. "Why would I _not_ be freaking out?!"

"It's all right," Thunderstrike assured him, placing a gentler hand on the grunt's shoulder. "You're doing the right thing."

"I really hope so," Amos sighed. He looked over to the Omnium. "Anyway…that's where Omnirex is holed up. I saw him go back in just before you got here, but I don't think he knows anyone's watching."

"So we jump him," Tina suggested. "Boom. Done."

"We do have the element of surprise," Thunderstrike agreed. "One decisive strike could bring us victory."

"There's no way in hell it's going to be that easy," Amos groaned, shaking his head.

"Perhaps not," Thunderstrike nodded. "But we must try."

Amos sighed. "Well…I guess _someone_ has to do the rotten jobs."

Thunderstrike chuckled and placed his hand back on Amos' shoulder.

"Sometimes, it may seem that way," the hero nodded. "But, let me say this; the night is always darkest just before the dawn. You may not believe that other people will help you, but the connections you make with them could be your salvation. Help may just come when you least expect it."

Amos pursed his lips skeptically and tried to turn his head away. Thunderstrike's grip on his shoulder became slightly firmer.

"Believe in yourself, and you can rise to any challenge," the lightning man assured him. "If you take anything away from this moment, let it be that."

"…right," Amos sighed skeptically. "Is there any chance we can…I don't know…get this whole warzone situation over with?"

"Yeah, I'm with him," Tina added, kicking powder off her sneakers. "Getting real sick of all the damn snow."

"Then let us begin," Thunderstrike nodded. "Wait here, both of you. I'll see if I can get us inside."

With that, he marched into the street and towards the front door of the Omnium.

"Uh, what exactly is he—" Amos began to ask Tina.

"Don't look at me," the street urchin shrugged. "Probably gonna show off again."

Thunderstrike stopped in the middle of the road, positioning himself as if preparing to run a marathon. Electricity began to course through his body. Amos backed away and took cover behind a trash can; he recognized what was about to happen.

"THUUUNNDEERRRR!" yelled Thunderstrike as he bolted forward, leaping into the air and catapulting himself towards the front door with one foot covered in lightning. "SSTTTTRRRRIIIIIIIKKKKKEEEEE!"

The force of Thunderstrike's signature kick produced a massive crater in the front doors, buckling them enough to break them off their doorway. The warrior himself stood in the doorway, striking a dramatic pose with his fists on his hips.

"Element of surprise, huh?" Amos grumbled.

"I know, right?" Tina snorted. "Eh, we've come this far, might as well back him up."

* * *

Having gracefully opened the door, Thunderstrike went in first, fists clenched and ready for battle. It was dark within the Omnium, with only some dim red lights on the ceiling providing illumination. Conveyer belts and mechanical arms lined the facility, with Omnic parts strewn across the floor.

And there, at the very end of the room, sat Omnirex in his gothic throne, still wearing Balderich's helmet and cape. Blackhardt stood by his side, gripping its massive axe.

"Funny how I keep running into the same people over and over lately," Omnirex remarked, lazily leaning his head on one fist.

"Perhaps that's how our stories are meant to intersect," Thunderstrike replied. "Perhaps it's fate."

"I don't buy into that rubbish," Omnirex scoffed as he stood up. "It never did me any good."

"I'm told you've been spending your time killing and stealing," Thunderstrike asked grimly. "Why?"

"To make the world a better place for Omnic-kind," the machine spat. "They've been stepped on by you meatbags for too long. They need a leader—a king—to make things right."

"What you want isn't wrong," Thunderstrike admitted. "But how you're going about it is."

"What, you think happy dances and pretty speeches will just magically fix everything?" Omnirex snorted. "Don't make me laugh!"

"Do you know of the Shambali—"

"Of course I know of the Shambali, you git!" Omnirex interrupted angrily. He snapped his fingers and his two plundered Vishkar drones materialized above him. "Mondatta was one of my idols! He did what I always thought was impossible!"

Recognizing its master's rage, Blackhardt prepared to step forward, but Omnirex put out an arm to stop his bodyguard.

"But…I'll be the first to admit," the machine king continued with a sigh, "Mondatta was wrong. He might've believed with all his bloody heart and soul that humans and Omnics could live in peace, and I even saw what his vision looked like in the crowd at his last speech. And then I watched everything fall like a ton of bricks the second he died."

Thunderstrike remained silent. Amos and Tina slowly crept inside at this point, but Omnirex didn't seem to notice them as he continued speaking. The Talon soldier looked over at the human-turned-Omnic, finding a small rocket now attached to each of his legs. Amos frowned; those weren't there when he met Omnirex in Egypt.

"I lost everything that day. Everything…and everyone," the mad Omnic said sadly. "All because some meatbags thought it would be a great joke to take them away from me. I don't care what you think about them, I can _never_ waste my time serving the scum that took—"

Amos and Tina quietly came up on either side of Thunderstrike. Amos gave Omnirex a nervous wave.

"…bloody _really_?!" Omnirex balked at the sight of the Talon grunt. "How are you showing up in my way _again_?!"

"Just…unlucky, I guess?" Amos shrugged.

"Oh, for the love of—well, you're in my house," Omnirex grumbled, "I might as well be hospitable!"

He snapped his fingers again, and the conveyor belts came to life. Whatever was on them beforehand tumbled to the floor as each belt brought a new cargo out of the walls; rows and rows of Omnirex's black-and-blue Bastion units, all in sentry mode and Gatling guns taking aim.

"Welcome!" Omnirex bellowed, sweeping his arms wide. Then, he dramatically pointed one finger at the human trio before him. "To die!"

The humans scattered as the Bastions opened fire. Blackhardt lumbered into the fray, swinging its axe wildly as Thunderstrike deftly dodged each of its efforts. Amos lobbed one of his sticky grenades at some of the Bastions as he fled from their fire, the slime jamming their guns and forcing them to explode. Tina daringly sprinted across the tops of several Bastions, throwing one of her taser bolas at Blackhardt to try and slow it down, though all it took was a swipe of the axe to disable her bola.

The next Bastion that Tina was set to jump off of, however, transformed back into its humanoid mode and aimed its gun-arm at her. Tina's eyes went wide for a split-second, just before she jammed the end of her staff into the Bastion's chest, impaling it and forcing it down to the ground. Unfortunately, this left the following Bastion an excellent opportunity to aim its Gatling gun at her.

"Shit!" Tina swore as she ripped her staff out of her kill and vaulted away, tumbling behind a column as a storm of bullets whizzed by. "Okay! Uh…I'm not having fun anymore!"

"Welcome to my world!" Amos cried, fumbling for a smoke bomb as he rolled out of harm's way. "Thunderstrike, get back!"

The hero obeyed, performing a magnificent back-flip away from Blackhardt and giving Amos an opportunity to throw his bomb. A veil of thick black smoke covered the scene, prompting the Bastions to cease fire. Only the sound of Blackhardt's axe swinging through the air in an attempt to clear the smoke could be heard as the three humans paused.

Then came the sound of rockets.

A black-and-gold version of Helix Security's Raptora armor, bearing a wolf-like head over the traditional avian helmet, soared high into the air and above the smoke cloud. This newcomer took aim with its rocket launcher and fired several shots, forcing the trio to scatter into cover again.

"Oh, that's right, I forgot," Omnirex said smugly, sitting back in his throne. "I got a new friend recently. His name's Anubis."

The black smoke soon cleared, and Anubis touched down beside Blackhardt. Amos, Tina, and Thunderstrike all hid behind the same column, which was all the reason Omnirex's two unique minions needed to ready their weapons as they advanced.

"Stay here," Thunderstrike ordered as he dashed back into the fray.

"What? Wait! What are you doing?!"

Despite Amos' protests, Thunderstrike charged his body with electricity and ran along the wall, dodging the resuming fire from the Bastions as he sent a bolt of lightning at the duo of Blackhardt and Anubis. Blackhardt's crimson shield, however, quickly blocked the lightning strike, though the barrier did not prevent Anubis from firing off a concussion rocket. Thunderstrike bounded off the wall to dodge the rocket, but Blackhardt gave its axe another mighty swing, releasing a fireball that soundly knocked the superhero to the ground.

"NO!" Amos yelled, running to the hero's side.

"Oh, shit, this is—this is actually really bad," Tina murmured with eyes wide, her usual confidence all but gone.

"Thunderstrike, come on, we need to get out of here!" Amos cried, placing one of his wraps on the electric man's burns. "We're not cut out for this! We can't win!"

Blackhardt prepared its axe and lumbered towards the two. Another of Tina's bolas found its mark, however, electrocuting the behemoth's head. The Bastions prepared to fire, but Omnirex held up a hand.

"I've come this far because of these people," the self-proclaimed king pointed out. "Seems only right that they get a more important-looking death. Blackhardt? Anubis?"

Blackhardt ripped the bola away and continued to advance.

"Maybe…maybe we have bitten off more than we could chew," Thunderstrike admitted as he weakly rose to his feet. "But that doesn't mean we should give up hope."

"Are you _insane_?!" Amos shrieked.

"Dude, Amos is right!" Tina added as she joined the two. "We're gonna freaking _die_ here without making a dent!"

"Perhaps," Thunderstrike nodded. He smiled under his mask. "But help may come when one least expects it."

"What the hell does that even mea—"

Amos' question was cut off by a massive shape sailing over the group and colliding with Blackhardt, flooring the behemoth in an instant.

"Excuse me for dropping in," smirked Winston the gorilla as he adjusted his glasses and took aim with his Tesla Cannon.

Blackhardt and Anubis retreated as the cannon's lightning forked in all directions, the latter robot taking to the sky. A blue light shot by some of the Bastions, leaving behind a small triangular bomb that quickly detonated and caught a fair number of them in its blast radius.

"No," Omnirex growled as he stood back up. "No, no, NO! NOT _AGAIN_ , DAMMIT!"

Winston leapt back to the humans, quickly dropping one of his barrier devices and projecting the familiar blue sphere. Seconds later, his companion joined him with a smile on her face and her pistols in her hands.

"Cheers, loves!" Tracer quipped. "The cavalry's here!"


	13. Chapter 13: Zero to Hero

**And here we are...the final chapter. Big thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read and even review this little story. I realize that the plot isn't structured in the most cohesive way (*hides duct tape and gum and paper clips used in construction*), but I've still found this a blast to write, and I hope you've all enjoyed giving it a read.**

 **Without further ado, let's get on with the final battle:**

Chapter 13: Zero to Hero

The very second that Tracer finished speaking, Tina shot Thunderstrike her most vicious glare yet.

"You _didn't_ ," she snarled. Thunderstrike only chuckled.

"I must confess that I did," he replied.

"Um, excuse me?" Amos raised a hand. "Am, uh…am I missing something?"

"He decided to call the biggest possible pieces of Watchbait for help!" Tina snapped, pointing at Tracer and Winston.

"Pieces of…what?" the gorilla scratched his head.

"It's her word for Overwatch's poster heroes," Thunderstrike explained with a shrug. "She's not much of a fan."

Amos tried to hide his body behind Thunderstrike's, desperately avoiding making eye contact with Tracer and Winston. He instead directed his attention towards the outside of the bubble, where an even more worrying sight awaited him. Omnirex was positively fuming at the Overwatch agents' interruption, fists clenched and shaking as a low, shaky growl emanated from beneath Balderich's helmet. His minions did nothing, all of them looking to him for their next order.

"W-well?! What are you all waiting for?!" the self-proclaimed Omnic King roared. "Open fire! OPEN FIRE!"

The Bastions turned their sights on their organic foes, releasing a barrage of bullets into Winston's barrier.

"This won't hold for long!" the gorilla cried, cracks already appearing in his shield.

"Right!" Tracer nodded. "Anyone who can fight, stick with Winston!"

Thunderstrike nodded. Tina gave an irritated huff, but readied her staff again. Amos was about to raise another questioning hand, but Tracer clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll join you in a sec," she said, glancing at the Talon soldier, " _after_ I have a quick chat with Amos here."

The Talon grunt froze with a frightened whimper. Winston shot him a reassuring smile before leaping out of the barrier and into a line of Bastions, Tesla Cannon tearing through them. Thunderstrike charged into the fray as well, with Tina following behind. Meanwhile, Tracer grabbed Amos' arm and dragged him behind the pillar, pushing his back into it.

"All right," the time-hopper began, "you and I need to have a little talk."

"Uh, is this really the time or place for—"

"It's going to have to be!" Tracer interrupted, placing her hands on her hips. "What did you run off on us for? Winston and I just wanted to help you!"

"I—Look, I have no way of knowing that for sure, okay?!" Amos sputtered, frantically looking between Tracer and the horde of robots a short distance away.

"You're not sure if being asked to join Overwatch means helping you?" Tracer asked with a skeptical look.

"How was I supposed to know if you were telling the truth?!" Amos yelled. "I've been led on before! And for all I know, you people could've been making me feel safe just long enough to pull the rug out from under me!"

Tracer's expression softened.

"But…we were your heroes, right?" she asked. "You really think your heroes would do that to you?"

"I don't know, okay?!" Amos shrieked. "I just—I don't know who or what to believe anymore!"

Tracer opened her mouth to speak again, but the panicking Amos cut her off.

"Look, can we _please_ just go out there?!" he cried, gesturing to the warzone ahead. "They need help!"

"Yeah, they do," Tracer agreed, putting her hands on his shoulders. "But, if we're going to fight together, I need you to trust me and Winston. There's no team without trust."

"I-I—" Amos stuttered. Then, he sighed. "I don't think I know how anymore."

Tracer gave him the kindest smile she could.

"Won't figure out how until you try, love," she said. "If you promise to watch our backs out there, I promise that we won't let you down like all the people you loved did."

Amos hesitated; she seemed sincere, but his instincts told him to not walk into this obvious trap. He stared at her hand for a moment, then looked out to the melee, all the while emitting nervous noises.

"Hey," Tracer said, giving him a slight shake. "It's okay. We're all gonna make it out of this."

She held out an inviting hand.

"Trust me."

One last moment of hesitation passed. Amos swallowed hard, feeling an ounce of pressure with every gunshot that reached his ears.

"Well…all right, fine!" Amos relented, clasping her hand in his. "What have I got to lose?"

"Aw, yeah!" Tracer pumped her fist triumphantly. "We're gonna be great teammates! Come on, Amos! Let's DO THIS!"

Tracer immediately blinked into the chaos, pistols blazing. Amos sighed, preparing his gun as he followed her.

 _Yep_ , he thought. _I am going to die._

With all five heroes in the heart of the madness, the battle began in earnest. Winston crushed several Bastions under his latest landing as lightning forked from his Tesla Cannon, ripping through the circuitry of several more Bastions and shorting them out. The ape felt something briefly land on his back, and soon he spotted Tina careening through the air (having used Winston as a springboard) and throwing one of her taser bolas at the airborne Anubis. The Raptora copy easily dodged, but was unable to counterattack due to finding itself the focus of Tracer's pistol fire.

"Copying off my friends is cheating!" the young agent quipped, vanishing in a blue light and reappearing directly in front of Anubis. "You need a time-out!"

She quickly slapped one of her pulse bombs onto Anubis' chest before teleporting away, allowing the bomb to explode and Anubis' parts to rain down upon the battlefield.

"Anubis!" Omnirex cried. His concerned tone quickly turned to one of rage. "Haven't you taken _enough_ of my family from me, Oxton?!"

With his drones at the ready and rifle in hand, Omnirex leapt off of his throne, the new rockets on his legs carrying him forward. Tracer was occupied with darting in circles around the massive Blackhardt, leaving her unable to notice her murderous former friend's approach. Amos, however, spotted him.

"TRACER, INCOMING!" he yelled, throwing a sticky grenade.

The time-hopper stopped long enough to look behind her, then vanished as the sticky grenade struck Blackhardt, covering the behemoth in slime and immobilizing it. Omnirex stopped, touching back down on the ground as he looked around wildly for his target. Suddenly, Tracer reappeared behind him, clubbing the mad Omnic in the head with her pistol before he could turn around.

"Thanks, love!" Tracer called to Amos with a wave, blinking away in time to avoid a pair of lasers from Omnirex's drones.

Amos gave her a half-hearted wave back, and as the Talon soldier scrambled to find cover by Winston, Thunderstrike ran straight up a wall and sprang off of it to perform a majestic back-flip. His body charged with lightning as he lined Blackhardt in his sights, the giant slowly melting away the slime from Amos' grenade with fire from the rocket engine in its back. Then, the tubes on Thunderstrike's arms released a burst of electricity, carrying him forward as electrical energy surrounded his outstretched foot.

"THUNNNDDDEERRR!" the superhero bellowed. "SSSSTTTRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKEEEE!"

Unable to put its shield up and too slow to move out of the way in time, Blackhardt was helpless as Thunderstrike's kick collided with it, the impact shattering its body in an instant and scattering the pieces across the floor.

"No!" Omnirex roared as more and more of his army crumbled and broke before his eyes. "NO, NO, NO!"

Roughly half a dozen Bastions remained. Three of them converted into tank mode and pursued the biggest target, namely Winston. Amos tossed a smoke bomb from behind Winston, giving the ape some cover in the ensuing dark cloud. With this advantage in place, Winston performed another jump-pack boosted leap and flattened one of the Bastions, eradicating the other two with his Tesla Cannon before either could find the gorilla in the smoke.

Meanwhile, Tina vaulted and somersaulted across the battlefield, deftly dodging bullets from the last few Bastions. She pulled out one of her medicinal mines and tossed it at them in the manner one would a Frisbee, though one of the Bastions quickly shot it out of the air. Liquid painkiller spilled out of the mine and onto the Bastions, distracting them for only a brief second.

As it turned out, however, a second was all Tina needed.

"Hey, guys, look what I found!" she cried, taking aim with Anubis' discarded rocket launcher. She quickly emptied all six shots out of the weapon, her flurry of shots destroying the last of Omnirex's Bastions.

"Nice shooting!" Tracer grinned.

"No one asked you, Watchbait," Tina spat.

"Ugh, seriously?" Tracer huffed. "Man, some people just can't take a compliment!"

"Let's not squabble amongst ourselves!" Thunderstrike decreed, pointing at the last remaining machine. "We have bigger problems."

Omnirex's hands shook violently as he clutched his rifle. The eyes in each of his drones burned brightly, ready to fire. His fleshy foes grouped together, his nemesis Tracer stepping forward.

"It's over, Eli," Tracer announced, aiming one pistol at Omnirex. "Give it up."

"Not on your damn life, Oxton!" Omnirex roared, a familiar compartment on his rifle opening and a volley of grenades soon erupting from it.

The group scattered once more, with Omnirex's rockets carrying him back near his throne. He stood atop it as he continued to fire grenades at Tracer, while a beam from each of his two drones distracted Tina and Thunderstrike, forcing the two to opposite sides of the field. Once they were sufficiently far away, Omnirex pointed at Winston, prompting the drones to circle the gorilla as a cylinder of energy surrounded him.

"Who dies first, Oxton?!" Omnirex roared. "You?! Or your mangy _pet_?!"

He took aim at Winston. His finger wrapped around the trigger of his rifle.

Then there was a tap on the back of his head.

"Eli? Omnirex? Whatever your name is?" Amos said from behind the mad Omnic, his gun at the back of Omnirex's metallic skull. "Just take it easy, okay? Just put the rifle down. We can talk about this."

Omnirex froze, his grip on his rifle like an iron vice. The heroes soon surrounded him. Tracer held up her pistols as Tina readied her staff. Thunderstrike struck a practiced martial-arts pose, and Winston was released from the barrier.

"Look," Amos continued, "Talon did something to your head, and—correct me if I'm wrong—I don't think you're the kind of guy to let them get away with it. We can make things better, okay? We can get you help."

"Help?" Omnirex repeated. In a blur of movement, he spun around and clubbed Amos with the butt of his rifle, aiming at him just as quickly. "Meatbags don't 'help' Omnics!"

A pair of blue lasers suddenly shot his drones down, causing him to flinch at the small explosions above him. Then, before he could move, Tracer was in front of him, one of her pistols pointed at his chest.

"Sorry, Eli," she said sadly, squeezing her eyes shut. Then she fired.

Omnirex fell to the floor with a hole burned into his chest, Balderich's helmet finally tumbling off of his head. The lights in his forehead began to fade. He struggled to rise, but weakly fell to the ground again. With the last of his strength, he looked to Amos.

"You'll learn," Omnirex growled. "No matter what she says…she'll turn on you one day. Just like how she turned on me."

Amos reached out to him, but the lights faded more. Eli "Omnirex" Dror fell to the ground. His rage was finally quelled.

The forehead lights turned dark.

Amos stared at the body for a moment as his hand slowly and limply fell back to his side. Tracer heaved a sorrowful sigh as she put her pistols away. Winston put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she looked away from her former friend's metal corpse.

"You…you just _shot_ him!" Amos whirled on Tracer, gesturing to Omnirex's body. "He's freaking _dead_!"

"I didn't _want_ to do it, but I had to!" she protested. "He was going to kill you!"

"He wasn't right in the head!" Amos countered. "He could've gotten help! You know, rehab?!"

"Amos," Winston began softly, "we get that you want to help people, and…believe me, that's a good thing. But some people…how do I put this? They're…just beyond help. Eli was too far gone for us to help him."

Amos sighed. "We could've at least _tried_."

"Even if we did…he may not have wanted help," Thunderstrike admitted. "Whoever he was before seems to have been buried under a mountain of rage and hatred."

"Yeah, look," Tina interjected, slipping her staff onto her back as she made to leave, "I don't know what his deal was, and I don't care. I'm done with you people."

"Tina, wait," Thunderstrike said, reaching out a hand.

"You guys do this shit on a regular basis?" Tina snapped. "Don't get me involved. Today has been the worst kind of crazy, and I want no part of it."

Thunderstrike slowly nodded. "Take care, then. Will you need a lift back to Ilios?"

"Eh, I'll find a ride," Tina shrugged. She stopped for a moment. "…thanks, though. Hate to say it, but…you're not so bad. For a guy in a Watchbait suit."

"You're not so bad yourself," Thunderstrike chuckled. "I wish you well, Tina."

"Whatever," Tina gave him a nod as she left.

Amos gave her a wave good-bye, then looked back to Tracer and Winston. The time-hopper gently lifted Omnirex's body into her arms.

"Winston?" she said. "Before we get back to the Watchpoint, I…I want to make a stop in King's Row. Give Eli a proper burial."

"Understood," Winston nodded. He looked to Thunderstrike and Amos. "You know…you're both welcome to join us, if you like."

"As much of an honor as it would be to work with the world's greatest heroes…I'm afraid I must decline," Thunderstrike replied. "I must find evil before it can do the most damage, and to stand the best chance of doing so, I must wander the world in search of it."

"Wow," Tracer gasped. "Uh, listen, Thunderstrike, sir? It's been a real honor working with you. You're going to be such a huge inspiration to people!"

"That's kind of you to say, but it was you who inspired me," Thunderstrike smiled beneath his helmet. "After all…the world could always use more heroes."

Tracer's eyes went wide for a moment as her beaming grin threatened to break her face in half.

"Uh, Winston, could you…?" she said, giving Omnirex's body to her simian companion before turning to Amos. "You got a pen and paper I can borrow?"

"Um, hang on," Amos replied, fumbling through his pockets and pulling out the paper slip Thunderstrike's radio frequency was written on. "I have this for paper, it's, uh—it's been a little used, but I think there's still room."

"I…think I have a—there we go!" Winston added, cradling Omnirex's body in one arm as he pulled out a pen.

"Thanks, guys!" Tracer cried, taking the implements in a blink of an eye. She quickly reappeared in front of Thunderstrike, the pen and paper positioned in a gesture of offering. "Uh, before you go…could I have your autograph?"

"Of course!" Thunderstrike laughed, and signed his name on the paper with a dramatic flourish. Tracer clutched the paper fondly for a moment before stuffing it in her pocket. "Well…I must be off. I wish you all the best of luck in each of your futures!"

"You, too!" Tracer smiled.

With a wave to Tracer and Winston and a quick nod to Amos, Thunderstrike left. Amos heaved a sigh. Things had finally calmed down.

"What about you, love?" Tracer said to him, putting an arm on his shoulders once more. "We work pretty well together, don't you think?"

"Well, when I'm not hiding behind Winston, maybe," Amos shrugged, earning a giggle from Tracer. "Listen, I don't know, I mean—I've probably been away from Talon too long, and—"

"Ah, you worry too much!" Tracer shook her head. "Winston and I have your back!"

"…yeah, I…I guess you do," Amos admitted. Tracer's grin widened. "Look, this is—what you're asking is definitely tempting, but—"

"But?" Tracer interrupted. "What's holding you back?"

Amos' mind raced for an excuse. His fear of what Talon would do to him if he defected outweighed his desire to be part of Overwatch, but the two agents in front of him would certainly not accept that for an answer. He ran down the list of reasons that would keep him in Talon. Then sky blue skin and golden eyes flashed through his mind.

"Well…I, uh…I have this, er—this friend in Talon," he said. "And…she's actually been pretty good to me, all things considered, so—"

"Ohhh, I get it!" Tracer said with a knowing smile. "Don't want to leave your girlfriend, huh?"

"I—what?" Amos stammered, face reddening beneath his helmet. "S-she's not my—"

"Say no more, love!" Tracer giggled, patting him on the back. "You go win her over, then you can _both_ come to Overwatch!"

"Uh…right," Amos said slowly. The image of Widowmaker in an Overwatch uniform was one he had no idea how to interpret. "I'll, uh…I guess I'll see you around?"

"Yup!" Tracer grinned, giving him a two-fingered salute.

"Give us a call sometime," Winston smiled. "We'd love to hear from you."

"If you say so," Amos shrugged. "Well…see you later, I guess."

Tracer and Winston gave him one more wave as Amos finally went back out into the snow. Once the two agents were out of earshot, he put a finger to his helmet.

"Clemens to Widow," he said into his radio. "Come in."

" _Clemens? Where on Earth have you been?_ " Widowmaker's voice came through the other end, sending a wave of warmth through Amos' body that quickly drove away the bitter cold. " _It shouldn't take almost a full day to do recon._ "

"Ugh, it's a long story," Amos groaned. "Can I get a ride back to base? I'm kind of freezing out here."

" _Oui. A dropship will be dispatched shortly,_ " his superior replied. " _I'll be expecting your report when you return. Widowmaker out._ "

With a click, the sniper hung up. Amos pulled off his helmet and took a deep breath of relief, watching the mist in his exhalation disperse into the air. He stared up at the falling snow. Then, he allowed himself to smile.

Maybe things were finally starting to look up for him.

* * *

 **Don't go away yet; there's still an epilogue to come.**


	14. Epilogue

**And lo...the epilogue has come.**

 **To be quite honest, I was a bit terrified of uploading a story with little-to-no shipping involved to a section so heavily dominated by pairing fics (especially considering that A: my usual response to pairings is just to look at it, say "yeah, that's a thing", then move onto something else, and B: some parts of fandoms are, if I'm quite honest, a tad infamous for exploding at the thought of X character being paired with anyone but Y character). But, after seeing all the interest the readers seemed to have, my worries seem to have been for nothing. I've said this before, but it bears repeating: thanks again to everyone who stopped in to give this thing a read. I'll be sure to write more in the future.**

 **But, until then, we have a first installment to finish.**

Epilogue:

Amos took a deep breath as he made his way through the corridors of Talon's base. It was time to deliver his report.

He found Widowmaker waiting for him outside the mess hall, the place they usually seemed to meet. As per routine, he greeted her with a salute.

"At ease," she nodded. "What did you learn out there?"

"Right…so," Amos began. "Remember that Omnic Talon was experimenting with who dropped me out of a plane, then turned up in Egypt with an army of Bastions?"

"What about him?" Widowmaker raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, it, uh…turns out he was in charge of the Omnium."

"Hmm…which would explain where he acquired his resources," the blue-skinned sniper pursed her lips. "You speak of him in past tense, though. What happened?"

"Well," Amos said, breathing in once more. It was time to test the quality of his crafted half-truth. "I was watching the Omnium for a while, and a few minutes after I saw the Omnic go in...I saw some former Overwatch agents go inside. There was a lot of noise, and after a few hours, one of the agents came out with the Omnic's body."

Widowmaker shrugged. " _C'est la vie_. He served his purpose."

Amos blinked. Much as he wanted to ask what purpose that was, he thought better of it. "Um…oh…kay?"

"Now, then," Widowmaker began, folding her arms and studying her subordinate. "Based on these little excursions, I believe I can now determine where you will do your best work. Once I submit the proper forms, you will be working as a field medic on missions requiring a group. Any questions?"

"Um…well, just one," Amos said, looking down at his uniform. "Is there any chance that, maybe someday, I can…maybe…pick my own outfit? I mean, don't get me wrong, this uniform's growing on me—especially the helmet—but, uh, I was just in the freezing snow. In a T-shirt. And, uh…to be perfectly honest, I could _really_ use some longer sleeves."

Widowmaker chuckled. "Perhaps we can arrange a few slight changes. But, if you keep up the good work, there may be a promotion in your future. And, with the rise to advanced agent, there are more…varied options of attire."

"Okay, thanks, I can work with that," Amos nodded. "So…one more thing? Let's, uh, let's say I get a promotion or two down the line…would that mean I can—I don't know—work with you more? I mean…I've had a lot of bosses over the years, but you're—honestly, you're hands-down the best one."

"Mmm…I imagine I am," Widowmaker said with a sultry smirk. Amos suddenly regretted opening his mouth as she came closer to him and looked him straight in the eye, steadily leaning in until her face was inches from his. "I'm a perceptive woman, Clemens. Do you _really_ think that wearing your helmet all the time keeps me from reading you like a book?"

Amos' head withdrew into his shoulders in a manner similar to a turtle going into its shell. The only sound he could make now was a strained squeak, which only served to provide Widowmaker with more amusement.

"Ah, Clemens…never change," she laughed as she drew back. She then turned to leave. "You're dismissed."

Once Widowmaker was out of sight, Amos felt safe enough to stop imitating a turtle. Making sure no one was around, he sighed.

He really did make the strangest friends.

* * *

A ship drifted to a stop at the Ilios harbor, illuminated by the striking sunlight. Sailors filed off in pairs, each one carrying a box of supplies. Everything from food to clothing to artwork moved from the water-bound ship to the trucks on land.

"All right, last one," one of the sailors remarked. "Hey, these food boxes seem a bit light to you?"

"Eh, we'll figure it out later," his companion shrugged. "Break time's coming."

As the two sailors left, a familiar staff-wielding figure ducked into an alley, a collection of bulges in her shirt. Once out of sight, Tina unfolded the bulge and smiled at her haul of stolen food. She stuffed a chunk of the food into her mouth, then slipped like a shadow through more alleys. Eventually, she came upon a rather peculiar alley with what seemed to be a homemade wooden fence barring it off.

 _Good times or bad,_ she thought, her smile widening, _there's no place like home._

Pausing only to devour more of her stash, Tina jumped the fence and sauntered down the alley, soon finding herself at a dead end. At this dead end, however, was a shoddy wooden shack that—like the fence—seemed to have been nailed together by amateur hands. Using her foot to carefully push the door open, Tina slipped inside the shack and shut the door behind her.

From a rooftop above, a man in a lightning-patterned motorcycle helmet observed his former companion's choice in living space.

"Is this really the life you want, Tina?" Thunderstrike sighed. "Perhaps we'll see in the future."

With that, he charged his body with lightning once again and leapt into the horizon.

* * *

Time off was rare, so Fareeha "Pharah" Amari knew to make the most of it.

Her apartment in Giza was close to where she worked, and the ample space in her living room gave her free reign to polish her combat skills. Fareeha had just cut through the air with a swift roundhouse kick when she heard a knock at the door. She raised an eyebrow; she wasn't expecting anyone.

Knowing herself ready to handle whatever situation she would be faced with, Fareeha opened the door. She immediately tensed; before her was a wanted criminal who had raided Overwatch bases that had been under the protection of Helix Security.

"Fareeha Amari," Soldier 76 nodded curtly. "Still playing soldier, I see."

Fareeha said nothing, clenching her jaw.

"At ease," Soldier 76 said. "I'm not here for a fight. I'm just making a delivery."

He held out an envelope. Fareeha cautiously took it.

"I hear you had that Raptora armor of yours painted blue in honor of your old friends at Overwatch," Soldier 76 continued. "Your mother would've been proud of you."

"You didn't know my mother very well, then," Fareeha replied darkly.

"Maybe better than you think," Soldier 76 replied. "Make sure you read that letter."

With that, he left. Fareeha's instincts told her to report the Soldier's presence, but there was something about the envelope he had given her that took her attention. There was a familiar quality about it. Something she hadn't seen in years.

She extracted the letter from its envelope, and read it over. Her face softened. Her eyes watered. All she could say was one word.

"Mum."

* * *

Tracer spread the last of the dirt over the impromptu grave she and Winston had dug for her old friend. She wiped her brow as she planted the shovel into the ground beside her.

"There we go," she remarked.

"I'll see if we can get a headstone made," Winston said to her. "Oh, by the way, I heard from the hospital Reinhardt is being kept in. He'll be fully recovered in a few days…though he insists that he's ready now."

"Yep, that's our Reinhardt," Tracer smiled. She looked down at the grave. "Could you warm up the _Mako_ for me? I'd…like to say some things to Eli, first."

Winston nodded and left. Tracer sat down at the foot of the grave, pulling what seemed to be a rolled-up comic book out of her pocket.

"I'm sorry things turned out this way, Eli," she said softly. "My girlfriend always tells me I can't do everything at once, but…sometimes, I wish I could. Maybe then all those awful things wouldn't have happened to you…and we'd still be friends. I don't think I ever introduced you to Emily; you might've liked her. She's my rock sometimes."

With a sigh, Tracer stood up.

"I'm going to keep fighting for the future, Eli," she vowed. "For a future where humans and Omnics can live together in peace, like we always heard from Mondatta. And when we get there…I hope you'll be watching, from wherever you are. You and the people you love. Because I'll do everything I can to make up for all the mistakes I've made. That's a promise."

She gently laid the comic, titled _Craft from the Stars_ , on Eli's grave.

"I think you—the _real_ you—would've liked this comic," Tracer continued. "Most people would've left a flower or something, but I thought this would work better, since you've been such a big sci-fi fan."

Tracer bowed her head and allowed silence to fall upon her. Her mind dwelled on the time she had spent with her old friend from King's Row: the video games they played, the winters they shared, the movies they watched. Throughout those eight years, Eli had seemed to enjoy her company, more than he did any other human outside of his immediate family.

Now all Tracer had were memories of happier times in the face of the agonizing reality.

"Good-bye, Eli," she finally sighed, reaching under her goggles to wipe away a tear. "Maybe I'll see you again someday? Like I told Fareeha…who knows what the future holds?"

With that, she left. It was time to move on, and carry out her promise.

* * *

The grave went undisturbed for hours after Tracer's departure. Only when night came did a stranger approach, clad in dirty brown rags and tattered blue jeans. The stranger flicked some of his wild red hair out of his face with a smirk. He had found what he was looking for.

Being mindful of the tubes protruding from his wrists, the stranger dug his hands into Eli's grave. He lifted out the metallic head and pried it open, soon pulling out a small black object with glowing red circuitry printed across it. The stranger showed all of his teeth in a grin; this was just what he was looking for, in just the condition he wanted. With his free hand, he pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and put it to his ear.

" _¿Qué onda?_ " a woman's voice answered.

"It's me," the stranger said flatly, his voice containing a slight Japanese accent. "I've got your Omnic brain, and it looks like you were right on the money. There's still a glow; his body might've shut down, but he's still alive in here."

" _I'll say this for Talon; they build their pet projects to last,_ " the woman replied. " _I'll send you a drop-off location once I'm back from Germany._ "

"Germany?" the stranger raised an eyebrow, casually tossing the brain up and down in his hand. "What's so interesting that you're all the way over there?"

" _Oh, just making a new friend,_ " the woman replied mischievously. " _See you later._ "

* * *

The last Bastion, body still covered in plant life and the occasional bird nest, sat calmly on a log as its single blue eye gazed skyward. Birds soared overhead, and sunlight pierced the canopy of the Black Forest. There were no more metallic airships. All was well.

A small yellow bird flittered down to a nest on the Bastion's shoulder, depositing a small twig. The Bastion observed this with its single eye, then gently pried a splinter off of the log it sat on, offering it to the bird. The bird happily took the offered splinter, adding it to its nest as well. Even this tiny action was, in the Bastion's blue eye, the most wondrous thing.

Then the blue of its eye turned purple.

The Bastion stood up, looking around. The heads-up-display in its field of vision displayed a number of digital footprints leading out of the forest. With movement conveying a sense of purpose, the Bastion followed the footprints and made its way out of the forest, its avian companion flapping along beside it. All the while, a tan-skinned woman in a purple coat looked on, leaning against a tree with a devious smirk.

"That's right, _amigo_. Go and explore the world you've been away from for so long," the woman smirked, flexing her clawed fingers. "And, while you're at it, make a quick stop in Mexico and help me bring down LumériCo."

* * *

 **And, with that tie-in to the Sombra ARG, "Ripple Effect" is complete! If all goes well, I may put out a sequel around the 2nd or 3rd quarter of the year. I hope you've enjoyed what you've read thus far, and that you'll be looking forward to the future (mis)adventures of Amos and co.**

 **Until then, see you around.**


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